


Rogues of the Lost Ark

by NewLeeland



Category: Indiana Jones Series, Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Croatian Krennic, Crossover, F/M, Historic fiction, Indiana Jones/Rogue One Fusion, Nazi Tarkin, Star Wars characters in Indy roles, Star Wars characters with name changes appropriate for the setting, more tags will follow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2018-11-02 15:38:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 41,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10947519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewLeeland/pseuds/NewLeeland
Summary: Assistant archaeology professor and adventurer Cassian Andor is tasked by US government officials David Draven and Monica Mothma to sabotage the Nazi efforts to find the Ark of the Covenant in Egypt. They fear its mystical powers might bolster the military might of Nazi Germany, led by the sinister Paul Patine.However, Andor is not the real expert on the subject. So he travels to Nepal to speak with his former Professor Galen Erso, who spent years of his life on the search for the Ark. Arriving in the Himalayas, he learns that Galen died two years earlier. But the artefact that he seeks is in the possession of Galen’s daughter, Jyn, with whom he had an affair years ago.Together, they embark on a journey that will bring new friends, old enemies, mystery and the adventure of a lifetime...





	1. Prologue: South America 1936

**Author's Note:**

> It all started with a picture of Diego Luna wearing a fedora...
> 
> That picture inspired the idea for an Indiana Jones AU. The idea inspired a plotline. Unfortunately for the fandom, it was I who decided to tackle it after being encouraged by many wonderful people.
> 
> So what to expect here? Basically, a crossover featuring Rogue One characters in the Indiana Jones universe, with Cassian Andor taking the place of Indy. This story will follow the plot of "Raiders of the Lost Ark". However, it is more of a mix of the movie, the Raiders novel, elements from Rogue One and further changes and or additions my mind made up. And because I'm a history student, it features lot of historic references, trivia and so on.
> 
> I know that that is not everyone's liking, but well, I can't stop myself. So, I hope at least some of you enjoy the story.
> 
> My plan is to update every Friday, but as my workload will increase in the following months, I may not be able to keep it up. However, it is my desire to finish this story. There's nothing worse than an unfinished story and as I don't like it as a reader, I'll do my best.
> 
> A big thank you to all people who encouraged me to write it and said they were thrilled to read it!
> 
> Special thanks to [Jaded](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaded/pseuds/Jaded) for creating the [moodboard](https://68.media.tumblr.com/030d9cc0a076eb95d85bec446baef2dd/tumblr_inline_oq7wxsflDu1uijbws_1280.jpg)!
> 
> And the biggest thanks goes to [Kobo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kobo/pseuds/Kobo) for being the most wonderful and supportive beta one could dream of. Without you, none of this would have been possible.
> 
> Enough talking now, I hope you enjoy the story!

* * *

 

One common mistake people made when it came to Cassian Andor was to assume that the Mexican man was familiar with high temperatures and the dreadful humidity of the South American jungle. They weren’t wrong when they said that his homeland Mexico was a rather hot country, but Cassian hailed from a tiny village in the State of Chihuahua. Located somewhere above 2,300 meters, winters there were cold. The climate there was still warm compared to many other regions of the earth, but the temperatures of the Peruvian jungle exacted their toll on the archaeologist.

At least it was significantly cooler inside the temple. The air was thick and smelled like the rotten plants that infested every inch of the cool stones. _This better be worth it_ , he thought. Even when Cassian was sure that what he was searching for was somewhere inside the ancient building, he was wise enough not to assume that his adventure would be successful.

At age 27, Cassian Andor had seen a lot of the world already. His parents had died early in his life, but through some morbid stroke of luck, it had changed his life for a better way. The mayor had adopted the young boy, as his sister had been his mother. Through a network of contacts, Cassian had somehow found his way to Marshall College in Connecticut.

And while he loved his job as an archaeologist and an assistant professor at said college, he still yearned for adventure. Luckily, the university dean had taken an instant liking of the young man. Cassian did not really understand why people liked him so much. He knew he had his rough edges and a lot of character flaws. Still, people trusted him easily. He was no saint and exploited it from time to time.

So Cassian Andor spent nine months a year at college, teaching classes, studying ancient texts, reading books in the library and writing papers. The other three months, he toured the world, searching for hidden artefacts, tracing rumors and hunting shadows. In some sort of way, he lived the life a young boy from the mountains of Chihuahua had dreamt about.

Behind him, he could practically hear Tivik sweat. The Peruvian’s loyalty was very doubtful and Cassian knew it was only a matter of time till the man would turn against him as his companion had earlier. Not now though. There were still some traps he had yet to disable, traps that would kill the other man easily. As long as Cassian Andor was useful, Tivik would help him. After that though… Well, he had a gun and his whip. Both had sufficed so far.

They made their way through the shadows, always wary and cautious. For Cassian, it was always a rare sort of joy to be inside a building that had existed for hundreds of years. He couldn’t describe the elation that came with this feeling. _You feel it or you don’t_ , he mused. Tivik did not have it. Or maybe he was just way too scared to appreciate the sheer majesty of the temple. Hundreds of stones carried through miles of dense jungle. A monumental effort.

The abyss was a surprise, but not entirely unexpected. If their layout was correct, they were close to the central chamber. When the floor in front of them crumbled, he was quick enough to jump back to safer ground. While Tivik mumbled some sort of prayer, Cassian preferred a more down-to-earth approach. Looking around, he grabbed a stone as large as his fist and threw on the dark ground in front of them. It gave way far too easily.

 _Spiderwebs_ , he realized. He threw another stone and counted the seconds till the object would clunk on the bottom. After seven seconds, he stopped. “Rather deep, my friend,” he told Tivik, his voice joyful. They would need a different way to proceed. Scanning his surroundings, he noticed a set of beams at the ceiling, perhaps three meters above them. Unlike most of the temple, they were made out of wood.

 _Worth a try_ , he supposed, expertly unrolling his whip and aiming for the middle beam. Years of training made it easy to wrap the end of the whip around it. Cassian pulled a few times till he was satisfied and sure that it would carry his full weight.

Tivik was not convinced. “Are you crazy?” he asked, clearly unwilling to follow Cassian.

The Mexican merely shrugged.

“Got a better idea?” he replied dryly, before pushing himself off the ground and in the air. No doubts infested his mind till he reached the safe ground on the other side of the chasm. Grinning, he let the whip swing back to Tivik, silently urging the man to follow him.

The Peruvian crossed himself before closing his eyes and mimicking Cassian’s move. When he arrived next to the archaeologist, Cassian grabbed Tivik’s belt, pulling him to safety and taking the whip out of his hand before securing the grip in a niche of the wall. “I don’t believe in oneways,” he added for the benefit of his companion.

Beyond the next corner lay the grand central room of the temple. Holes in the ceiling illuminated the room and highlighted the altar in its center. Upon it, the aim of his expedition waited for him. A golden idol of the Chachapoya warriors, at least four thousands years old.

For Tivik, it was not a historic artefact, but merely a lump of gold that would buy him alcohol, whores and cigarettes. Greed shone in the man’s eyes as he suddenly found his courage and strode past Cassian to step into the room. Before Tivik crossed the threshold, Cassian’s arm gripped his shoulder. Silently shaking his head, he signaled the man to stay back.

The floor was composed out of black and white tiles and it made the alarms in Cassian’s head ring. Surely, as the whole temple had been laden with them, the central room would have some traps for anyone brave or foolish enough to reach it. At the wall, he found two old torches. Lighting the first of it, he slowly approached the threshold and knelt down. Slowly, he used the handle of torch to put some weight on one of the white tiles. Nothing happened.

It worried him way more than any kind of trap could have.

The accuracy of his suspicions was revealed only seconds later, when he repeated the action on one of the black tiles. Before the Mexican could pull back his hand, a tiny arrow, maybe half as big as one of his fingers, drilled itself into the torch.

Tivik gasped and hectically pointed at the wall. “It came from there.”

For once, his nervous companion was right. Upon studying it more closely, Cassian identified dozens of small holes, doubtlessly harboring more little arrows. It was rather simple really. White tiles were safe, black tiles meant death. He was a bit disappointed.

“You stay here, Tivik,” he instructed.

“If you insist, Señor,” the man easily replied, a dumb grin on his unshaved face. _Yeah, I bet you are fine with me doing the dangerous part, cabrón_ , Cassian thought before focusing on the task at hand.

Perhaps two dozen meters were between him and his price and Cassian made it past the first twelve rather easily before something caught his gaze. A tiny bird, skewered by arrows, laid on the ground. On a white tile to be exact. He cursed. Of course it wasn’t that easy. The Indians who had built this temple thousands of years ago may not have had modern technology, but they were too clever to rely on such a simple defensive system. Some white tiles would be just as deadly as the black ones.

The question was: Which? One of them? A few? A dozen? He felt sweat running down his face and back. This time, it wasn’t due to the humid air. There was absolutely no chance to figure it out now. _Trial and error it is then_ , he thought darkly. It wouldn’t be the first time.

But hesitating wouldn’t help. So he took another step forward, still shunning the dark tiles at all costs. Every single one of them could be a contact mine, every one of them could bring his sudden and inglorious death. He tried to make his steps lighter, avoid being on one tile for more than just a few moments. Like a ballet dancer, he walked on his tiptoes. Step by step. Time seemed to stretch, minutes turned into hours.

That he made it to the altar in the end was a combination of courage and sheer luck, but Cassian Andor wasn’t one to think too much about it. His price was close.

That meant the final and perhaps most deadly trap was still waiting for him. He could feel Tivik’s impatience behind him as he closely mustered the artefact. Cassian did not see the beauty of it or marveled how many hours it must have taken the Indians to craft this beauty. No, he tormented his brain to find out which final obstacle lay before him. It was cruel. So close, but still so far away.

To remove the idol, he had to lift it. Frantically searching his pockets, he found an empty pouch made out of leather. Now, it was a guessing game. Luckily, there was enough earth and stones on the ground around him. Cassian filled the pouch, weighing it in his hand. Time was running out and he felt like more guessing would only make things worse. His right hand flipped forward, grabbing the idol while his left one placed the pouch down on the same spot the idol he vacated seconds ago.

For a few glorious seconds, it seemed to have worked.

Then, all hell broke loose. The walls and the ceiling crumbled down, creating terrible noises that hurt his ears. All caution had been thrown in the wind as he started running back, now ignoring the tiles on the ground. Falling rocks from above activated the mechanisms behind and ahead of him. Clutching the idol to his chest and cowering to minimize the chance of being hit, he hurried back towards the entrance.

Despite his quick feet, it seemed like a miracle that he made it back to the entrance without being hit by even one arrow.

Tivik had long since fled and when Cassian reached the abyss; the Peruvian was already waiting on the other side. He seemed calmer than ever before as he methodically rolled in the whip he had used to cross the chasm. Tivik grinned like a cat that had just cornered a mouse.

“An exchange, Señor. You give me the idol and I’ll throw the whip back to you. Sounds fair?” Cassian hesitated for a moment. “What choice do you have?” his former partner added.

“And what are you going to do if I throw it down there? You would be left with nothing but a whip,” Cassian replied, clearly bluffing.

Tivik just smiled. “And you would be dead.”

 _Well, he’s right about that._ Without wasting time on another word, he threw the golden idol across the abyss. Tivik caught it rather easily, staring at his newfound treasure for several seconds. Then, he dropped the whip.

“Adiós, Señor Andor,” he said before turning around and marching away. Cassian cursed his retreating form, but he berated himself for wasting his breath and trusting the man to keep his word in the first place. Behind him, the sound of destruction only grew louder. There wasn’t enough room for a making a proper run-up, so he mainly made two steps back, took a deep breath and launched himself into the air. Luck smiled upon him another time and he actually reached the other side.

Elated, he immediately grabbed his whip and followed the Peruvian. Without Cassian’s guidance, Tivik didn’t make it very far. Not half a minute had passed till a terrified scream signaled the end of the man’s life. When Cassian entered the chamber close to the exit, he found Tivik impaled by a whole wall of sharp sticks that had somehow appeared out of the blue. Pure surprise had etched itself into the now dead man’s face.

Cassian couldn’t even pretend to feel sorry for him. “Adiós, Tivik,” he murmured, grabbing the idol out of the hands of the corpse and rushing outside. As he crashed into the soft jungle ground, he allowed himself a few moments of respite. It had been very exhausting minutes after all. And so he did not notice a whole army of shadows closing in on him.

When he looked up, the angry faces of two grim Hovito warriors greeted him. Both were armed with blowguns and sported war paint. His attention, however, was focused on a man at least two decades older than himself. Impeccably dressed in a sophisticated outfit including a tropical helmet, Ognjen Krennić looked like a nightmare come true. His smile reminded Cassian of a shark. Cold and deadly.

The jungle around them was swarmed by Hovito warriors, at least thirty of them. Cassian tried to reach his pistol, but realized such an attempt was ill-advised and foolish. He would be dead within seconds.

Cassian hung his head in defeat and Krennić smiled as he approached him, now sporting the chiding expression of school teacher.

“And once again, you have chosen the wrong kind of friends. And this time, it will cost you.” He sounded almost jovial as if he had met an old friend in a park in London.

No further words were needed as Cassian passed the idol into Krennić’s outstretched hand.

“Doctor Andor, again we see that there is nothing you can possess which I cannot take away. And you thought I had given up,” Krennić added while carefully examining the idol with greedy eyes. It was a different kind of greed than the one Tivik had displayed, but it filled Cassian with the same disgust.

“And the Hovitos expect you to give them back their idol.”

“Naturally,” Krennić replied, still focused on the idol.

“How naive,” Cassian joked, but he sounded more resigned than happy.

“A pity, isn’t it? If you could only speak their language and tell those brute savages what I really am.” With a triumphant grin, Krennić turned around, lifting the statue high above his head. In a display of primitive idolatry, all Hovitos dropped to the ground within a second, faces pressed towards the earth.

For Cassian, it was an excellent opportunity to escape and he took it immediately. It was good that he was rather young. An older man could not endure an afternoon full of temple exploring and then run a few hundred meters chased by a mob of angry tribesmen. Even in this situation, he couldn’t stop overthinking. Krennić had led him off easy. Or maybe, Cassian escaping was the perfect opportunity for Krennić to disappear himself.

Flying through the underbrush, he mobilised his last energy reserves. Arrows cut through the air behind him, but none of them found their target. It may have been two or twenty minutes till he finally reached the river and saw the small airplane in the middle of it - his escape route. Without thinking twice, he threw himself into the water. His subconsciousness warned him about alligators and piranhas, but he couldn’t care less as he crawled towards the drifting plane.

“Start the engines, Melshi,” he screamed at his pilot, who was dozing in the front cabin. The Hovitos had reached the banks of the river, but the plane was out of their reach. Some of them followed Cassian into the water, but there should be enough time for Melshi to get the bird into the air.

But the Scotsman took his time. “Melshi,” Cassian wailed as a group of five grim-looking Hovitos closed in on their plane. “Got it,” his pilot replied and the buzzing of the motor seemed like the best sound Cassian had ever heard. A few seconds later, the plane left the river, the jungle and the Hovitos beneath it and Cassian Andor finally allowed himself to relax.

It was difficult to assess the situation. He had pocketed some minor trinkets and escaped with his life. But the main goal had been stolen from him. He cursed Krennić. Once again, his archnemesis had bested him.

After a few minutes, the adrenalin was depleted and the consistent sound of the plane’s engines lulled Cassian into an easy sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap for the prologue, ladies and gentlemen! Next chapter, we'll meet a few more important characters!
> 
> Trivia, explanations, translations and background info can be found [here](https://thenewleeland.tumblr.com/post/160850488021/rotla-chapter-one-authors-notes).
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it!


	2. Interlude: Berlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oberst Wilhelm Tarkin meets the Führer, Paul Patine, to discuss the efforts to find the Ark of the Covenant in the Egyptian desert near Cairo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me tell I'm overwhelmed at how well received the first chapter was. Thanks for all kudos, comments, bookmarks and likes here and on Tumblr, it was really motivating.
> 
> In this chapter, we'll see what the "other side" is up to and get a first glance at one of Cassian's antagonists.
> 
> Originally, I though about writing all the dialogue in German, as these are two German-speaking characters. But while I'd love to incorporate as many languages as possible to give it a "real feeling", it seemed rather impractical if 95% or more of the readers have to scroll down to find the translation and go back. There will be some passages or quotes in different languages than English, but not larger conversations like this one.
> 
> It is very fitting that today is the late Peter Cushing's birthday. He and his best friend Christopher Lee are my favorite actors and I do hope the character modelled after him here is worthy of him. Or at least of the original Tarkin. So this chapter is kinda dedicated to the memory of Peter Cushing.
> 
> (And to a smaller extent to the Under-20 national soccer team of Vanuatu, as their performances at the U-20 World Cup were very inspiring. They fought till their chances were spent.)
> 
> Special thanks to [Kobo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kobo/pseuds/Kobo) for being the most awesome beta in the world! :)

* * *

Oberst Wilhelm Tarkin thought himself a patient man.

At age 57, he had seen Germany at its peak, a time where the black, white and red flag of the _Kaiser_ waved over faraway shores, in Africa, China and the Pacific.

As he grew up, he had quickly realized that the only way to succeed in an ever-changing world was through a military career. Germany was a country founded on the power of its soldiers and its weapons and he considered it fitting that its hour of birth had been after an overwhelming victory over the French and in Versailles no less.

Sadly, Versailles now had a very different ring to it.

Although Tarkin’s opinion about Kaiser Wilhelm II. had always been ambivalent, he would concede that the man at least had the right vision for Germany. _Ein Platz an der Sonne._ No longer a continent-bound power surrounded by enemies and in the shadow of England and France. No, as an Empire that dominated lands all over the globe.

In 1904, a young Tarkin successfully applied for a transfer to German South West Africa, hoping that an easy military victory won far from home over some barbaric African tribe would further his ambitions in Army and politics. Only months after his arrival in Windhoek, his wish was fulfilled.

The Herero Uprising was no real war considering how poorly equipped and undisciplined the natives were. Yes, they had managed to gain some small victories by resorting to a guerilla campaign, but in August, in the only pitched battle at Waterberg, German guns and artillery had triumphed over Herero manpower and spears.

The war wasn’t won after this victory, as the Herero remained still at large. But Tarkin had a simple solution for the problem: Drive the survivors and their families in the desert, poison their water holes, guard every way of escape and shoot anyone crazy enough to try and pass them by.

Generalleutnant Lothar von Trotha, the German commander-in-chief, who signed the so-called _Vernichtungsbefehl_ would be blamed for it, but the right people knew it was then-Major Tarkin -- not the General from Magdeburg -- who had been the driving force behind the genocide.

While the official reaction was one of outrage, the situation did not change in Africa and Tarkin glady supervised the construction of a number of concentration camps in the colony, where indigenous people were kept as cheap slave laborers.

The unyielding sun of Africa had taken its toll on the major, however, and his cheekbones had gotten more pronounced and his hair had turned grey before his 35th birthday. He had seriously considered returning to Germany and had made his way to Tanga when the news reached them that the Great War had broken out in Europe.

Tarkin would have preferred to serve in Europe, aware of the fact that only the near and way more important battles against the French and the Russians would bring the prestige and power he so desperately craved. But he was stuck in Tanga when the British attacked and after distinguishing himself in the following battle, Oberst Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck was determined to keep him at his side in the following war.

So Tarkin spent the next four years in Africa, fighting the British, Belgian and Portuguese troops thousands of miles away from his home. While he respected the military prowess of his commander, the man also showed himself as too squeamish to make decisions Tarkin would have taken.

For four years, the Germans stayed undefeated and lost not a single battle. But it didn’t do them any good. In November 1918, von Lettow-Vorbeck and Tarkin surrendered their command in Abercorn and left Africa behind.

Tarkin, still a major despite a whole resume full of successful military achievements, returned to a Germany that was nothing more but a shadow image of its former glory. Versailles had stolen its colonies, their ancestral homelands in Europe, their military might and, worst of all, their pride as a nation. He watched with disgust as French African troops garrisoned his native Rhineland, another humiliation the _Schandfrieden_ brought with it.

Joining the forming Nazi movement in the 1920s was a rather easy decision. Tarkin had always considered himself and the Germans as superior over other people as proven by years of military success and his time in Africa had only served to confirm such believes. Granted, their own Askari -- local soldiers serving the colonial powers -- had been brave, but they were savages. Led by competent white officers, they could fight. But on their own, they returned to their natural state of barbarity.

In October 1929, he first met Paul Patine, the leader of the Nazi party. Within minutes of their first conversation, it became clear that both men spoke the same language. Patine had lost his native homeland Elsass to the French after the war and was even more eager to reverse history and bring Germany back to its former power. Patine was a man of visions, but he needed a capable and rigorous military man to ensure the support of the armed forces.

In January 1933, years of scheming behind the scenes, manipulating the public and building connections had finally been rewarded. Patine was appointed Reichskanzler. Two months later, the Nazi party won the elections by a large majority. The following establishment of their full power was only a matter of form.

Tarkin himself was promoted to Oberst, but the rank was only in pretence. In reality, Wilhelm Tarkin was the real man in charge of Germany’s military operations, a secret so well-kept that even some members of Patine’s inner circle were unaware of the true power relations.

And that was the reason why it was Tarkin and not some other officer who met with Patine in his office in Berlin today.

“My friend, I will not waste any further words, you are just as aware as I am about the importance of this task. We are surrounded by enemies and even though we slowly recover from that _Schandfrieden_ we were forced to sign in Versailles, we are not ready yet to deal with all our foes. We need a weapon. A big and powerful one so that we can intimidate them and threaten them with nothing less than utter annihilation if they dare to oppose us. This Ark could be said weapon. The reports on its power are very promising. Even if it we can’t employ said power, it would be useful to boost the morale of our troops.”

While Tarkin stood near the fireplace, Patine was slowly pacing between his desk and the nearby window, stopping from time to time to gaze thoughtfully outside. Tarkin noted that Patine had aged considerably since their first meeting, more than the years would imply. _Reigning over Germany and cleaning up the mess those damn traitors left behind takes his toll_ , the Oberst thought.

“I agree, mein Führer. Although it is a Jewish relict…”

Patine swung his hand around like he was trying to swat away Tarkin’s concerns.

“Jewish, pah. The Ark is just as important for the Christians as it is for them. They perverted it and they will pay for it. In the future.”

Tarkin nodded. His experiences with the Jews were limited, but he couldn’t care less at the moment.

“The Wehrmacht will need at least five more years to be able to face and succeed against our enemies to the east and the west. Any additional arm in our arsenal, be it a moral booster or an actual weapon of mass destruction, would be very welcome. I already gave orders to double our efforts in Kairo. To hire more men, to dig faster.”

“That is not enough,” Patine interjected. “We need expertise, not manpower.” He stopped pacing, mustering Tarkin with his hands behind his back, scrutinizing the Oberst. “I want you to hire Krennić.”

Distaste and bile rose in Tarkin’s throat. He had met Ognjen Krennić, the arrogant Croatian archaeologist and mercenary, only a couple of times, but it was more than enough to fabricate a deeply embedded loathing on both accounts. Krennić had called him a “visionless, goose-stepping moron”. For Tarkin, the Croatian was nothing more than a particularly shady freelancer without an ounce of integrity. Sure, it was rumored that Krennić was in league with the Ustaša, but Tarkin did not believe it. Ognjen Krennić would sell his own mother if such a deal would give him what he wanted. The man he had no reliable political opinions.

But Patine wasn’t very fond of dissent.

“He can’t be trusted”, was therefore his simple reply. The Führer was a very cautious man, nearly bordering on paranoid. His best chance to convince him to leave Krennić out was to play with Patine’s fears that the man would betray them.

“Yes, indeed. That’s why I’m sending you to personally supervise the project. Use his knowledge, his connections. Find the Ark and bring it back to Berlin. Spare no costs. You shall have everything you need. Men, guns, money.” Patine paused and his voice was fraught with meaning when he spoke again.

“Bring me the Ark and you will be the one to use its power against our enemies. I can’t trust those morons in the Wehrmacht or in the Luftwaffe. They only support me because the want to gain power. They are no true friends of mine. Unlike you. You. _Der Treueste der Treuen_.”

Tarkin inclined his head to signalize how honored he was by this assessment. He did not like to admit weaknesses, but supervising excavations wasn’t his strong suit. Neither was archeology.

“Time is of the essence. Find Krennić and keep me informed of your progress.” Patine sat down behind his desk, signaling that their meeting was about to end.

“I know you won’t disappoint me. And when he is no longer of any use for us, dispose of him.” Patine fixed Tarkin in his gaze again.

“Bring me the ark, Wilhelm, and we will create the Germany men like us deserve.” Patine’s eyes had a glimmer that bordered on insanity, but Tarkin wasn’t concerned. Once he found the ark, a lot could change, but he was getting ahead of himself.

“Jawohl, mein Führer. I appreciate your faith in me.” Clicking his heels and saluting, Oberst Wilhelm Tarkin turned around and left the room to carry out his orders. He already knew where to look for Krennić. Tarkin was a soldier after all, and the best you could do with unpleasant orders was get them done as quickly as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was our first short interlude. Worry not, next week we'll see Cassian again in a substantially longer chapter.
> 
> There is quite a lot background information, historical events/facts in this interlude and of course some name changes. If you want to find out what's the reason for this, read the notes for this chapter [here](https://thenewleeland.tumblr.com/post/161103726556/rotla-chapter-two-authors-notes). It really helps to understand many plot-relevant details.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> (Even Nazi Tarkin blesses the rains down in Africa)


	3. Connecticut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in the United States, Cassian's archaeology course is interrupted when his old friend Marcus Brody enters his classroom and tells him that two agents from the United states government are there to see him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And back to the main storyline. We know what Tarkin is planning, now let's get Cassian into the Ark business.
> 
> I loved writing this chapter, especially the dynamic between Cassian and Marcus Brody, one of my favorite characters. Also, we will see some familiar faces in different roles.
> 
> Special thanks to [Kobo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kobo/pseuds/Kobo) for being the most awesome beta in the world! :)

* * *

The switch from a somehow shady globetrotting treasure hunter to an honorable assistant professor somewhere in New England wasn’t always an easy one, but after a few days filled with job routine, Cassian was right back into the old rut.

Professor Lor San Tekka, who held the archaeology chair, was a rather old and frail man. He had shown Cassian nothing but kindness after his predecessor had left Bedford and so Cassian was more than happy to substitute for him whenever his illnesses prevented him from giving his classes.

It felt weird from time to time, as many students were only a few years younger than him, but they somehow admired the good looking, easy going assistant professor. While Cassian’s travels around the world weren’t exactly common knowledge, the archaeology students knew some sparse bits about his exploits. If anything, the uncertainty and mystery added to the appeal Cassian had, especially when it came to the female students, who constituted about two thirds of the total number.

It would have been a cakewalk to get to know some of them better and two or three had even tried to seduce the mysterious bearded Mexican. However, all these attempts had ended with disappointment. Cassian wasn’t really interested in casual flings. If anything, they were destined to cause trouble for him and the university. He never forgot that he was nothing but an orphan with some vaguely influential friends when he came to Bedford and the university had not only offered him a stipendium, but also financed his researches and hired him after he finished his studies and worked on his doctorate. Not to mention how they covered and even payed for some of his travels and research trips.

He wouldn’t risk all that for a one-night fling with a pretty young girl. And there was another good reason why he pushed such thoughts far from his mind.

Many people had told him it would get easier after a few years, but it appeared as if they were mistaken. The sudden loss still felt like a gaping wound.

His expeditions kept his mind off such matters of the heart, but meeting Krennić again hadn’t really helped.

Ognjen Krennić, the bane of Cassian’s young career.

Nobody knew for sure what Krennić’s background was exactly, except that he was from Croatia, now a part of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia. His doctorate had been conferred on him by the University of Zagreb, but as there were only few Croatian-speaking people outside of Europe, no one really knew details about it. Overall, information about Krennić was rare, no mentions of parents, family, friends or background.

Cassian had first met Krennić seven years ago, when he had still been a student at Marshall College. Krennić, already some weird mix of mysterious and infamous, had visited the college to speak with his old friend and then-chairholder Galen Erso, who had also been Cassian’s first mentor.

Cassian had disliked the pompous man whose hubris would have been enough to fill a zeppelin. But for Galen’s sake, he had shown the man around the campus and even talked with him about Cassian’s research.

Half a year later, Krennić published a research study on the exact same subject and hypothesized some of the theories Cassian had introduced to him.

Of course, no one believed an orphaned Mexican student who had just turned 21. Even Galen had been unable to help him.

“I know Ognjen and this is not the first time an incident like this has occurred. Our professional circles do not trust him, but still, they will rather believe him than you. I’m sorry, Cassian.”

Krennić, who could be best described as a scavenger, somebody who feasted on something they didn’t even chase. Who stole from the real hunter.

Another five years later, after months of begging, hours in various libraries and writing dozens of letters, Cassian had finally managed to convince the University Directorate to finance an archaeological excavation in the Rub al-Khali desert in Saudi Arabia.

Cassian had just finished his doctorate and had been eager to finally pay back the university for the years they had invested in him.

But when his team had arrived on the Arabian Peninsula, Krennić was already there.

Granted, the Croatian’s expedition had found nothing to justify the high expenses. But at this point, Cassian didn’t care any longer for the scientific purpose. Once again, Krennić had stolen his intellectual work.

Back then, he at least had Jyn to comfort him. At the present day, Cassian had to deal with his anger, disappointment and fury alone.

Teaching, he had discovered, was another way to get his mind of these dark thoughts. A way to channel his passion for the subject and share it with other young people. Cassian remembered all too well the times when it was him sitting in one of those rows of benches and listening to Professor Erso speak about excavations in England, Egypt, the Maghreb, Mesopotamia or even Cassian’s homeland Mexico. For a young boy who never thought he would leave his small village, discovering the world and its history made him feel big and small at the same time.

Most of the people from his village did not care about more than bringing in their crops and surviving the day. He respected that, but he was also glad that he had been able to escape such a menial fate and explore the various cultures and places the Earth had to offer.

“Neo, meaning ‘new’ and ‘lithic’,” he stopped briefly to check his spelling on the chalkboard, “I-T-H-I-C,” - the class laughed behind him - “meaning ‘stone’.”

Sometimes, he still struggled with writing some technical terms. Cassian had only learned to write in his teens, as there were no schools in the vicinity of his town. Since then, he had learned English, some German and French, Arabic and Latin in addition to his native Spanish. But nothing was more embarrassing than writing something wrong in front of 40 students, so he preferred to double check. Cassian knew their laughter wasn’t meant to be insulting, merely jesting.

“All right, let’s get back to this Turkdean burrow near Hazelton. It contains a central passage and three chambers or cists….”

His class hour was rapidly nearing its end and Cassian tried to finish the subject before the shrill ringing of the bell would draw his students attention away from him.

However, his effectuations came to a standstill when the door to his classroom opened and Marcus Brody, the Curator of the National Museum and a close friend of Cassian, entered. It wasn’t common for Brody to interrupt his lectures and so Cassian stopped for a moment, but the Englishman just gave him an uninterpretable grin before slightly nudging his head, signaling Cassian to continue. While Brody leaned himself against the wall next to the door, Cassian tried to pick up where he had left.

“... and the grave goods that were found at another area given reason to date this find as we have,” he concluded, just in time, because one second later, the bell rang.

“That’s it for the day then,” he said and his students immediately lost interest and began streaming out of the room while talking to each other excitedly. Cassian called out a few chores to prepare for the next class and his new office times and then focused on Brody, who was waiting by the door.

The last student walked past them, awkwardly putting a green apple on Cassian’s desk before disappearing in the aisle. He was familiar with this historic gesture that was meant to sway the teacher’s favor towards the giver and such rituals fascinated him. Although it would not change his treatment of the students in question. Cassian had dedicated himself to being a fair teacher.

Marcus Brody was in his late fifties, but his hair still was mostly black and not grey. Just like his friend, Galen, he had always been very supportive of Cassian and since Galen’s disappearance Marcus had become Cassian’s closest friends at the college, despite their vast age difference. Brody was an affable man and an accomplished archaeologist in his own right, although he did most of his work in libraries nowadays. His wife Elizabeth had died more than fifteen years ago and ever since then, Brody had dedicated himself to his post. In a way, both men filled a tiny bit of the holes in their lives where once a loved person had stood.

“I had it, Marcus. I had it in my hand,” Cassian began without an introduction, desperate to get all the feelings of anger, self-criticism and disgust finally off his chest.

Brody in the meanwhile, seemed more fascinated with the green apple the student had left. “What happened?” he asked, in passing, his eyes on the fruit, turning it to check it for dents or rotten spots.

“Guess?” Cassian replied, well aware that Marcus would be able to identify the source for Cassian’s anger in an instant. No one got him riled up like Krennić.

But rather than sympathy or pity, Brody’s face had a rather droll expression. Polishing the apple on his right sleeve, he answered with a question of his own, preceded by a short, amused laugh. “Krennić?”

“Want to hear about it?” He wouldn’t mind letting off steam by ranting about the insidious Croatian.

Brody paused slightly before biting into the apple. “Not at all. I’m sure everything you do for the museum conforms to the International Treaty for the Protection of Antiquities,” he spoke calmly, pocketing the apple and picking up another piece Cassian had on his desk.

The disinterest of his friend did not stop Cassian from explaining him his plan to make things right. Walking towards the other ends of the desk, he waved his arms through the air in a helpless but still determined gesture.

“It’s beautiful, Marcus. I can get it. I got it all figured out. There’s only one place he can sell it, Marrakesh. I need two thousand dollars.”

Brody did not react on Cassian’s proposal, merely leaning against the desk, facing the door and not Cassian while checking his fingernails.

“Listen to me, old boy, I’ve brought some people to see you,” the Englishman began, but for Cassian, the whole issue wasn’t even close to be finished. Frantically searching in his briefcase, he pulled out some historic findings he had acquired before his ill-fated expedition in the jungle.

“Look, I got these pieces. They’re good pieces, Marcus,” he insisted, handing some of them to Brody.

“Cassian...” Brody’s voice sounded placating now, but he took the pieces nonetheless. “Yes, the museum will buy them as usual, no questions asked. Yes, they are nice”, he added after a short, but skilled glance.

“They’re worth at least the price for a ticket to Marrakesh.”

“The people I brought are important, they’re waiting,” Brody insisted, once again ignoring Cassian’s request. His friend usually wasn’t so dismissive or uninterested, so Cassian finally changed his focus.

“What people?” he inquired, nervousness growing inside him. Brody may not ask questions about how exactly he got his findings, but others might. The last thing he needed right now was trouble with any sort of authorities.

“Army Intelligence,” Brody said, letting Cassian’s pieces join the apple in the pockets of his jacket, and moving towards the door. “They knew you were coming before I did. Seem to know everything. Wouldn’t tell me what they wanted.”

Cassian hectically collected his briefcase, several maps and other teaching materials before hurrying to follow Brody. “Well, what do I want to see them for? What am I, in trouble?”

* * *

 

The “people” Brody had talked about were actually a man and a woman, both well dressed and sporting the kind of distant politeness one would expect from government officials, at least in this part of the world.

When they arrived in the main lecture hall, Cassian headed straight for the elevated space at the front where a chalkboard, a lectern and a desk with several chairs. Brody picked up the Intelligence agents, who had seated themselves on some of the chairs on the floor.

“Doctor Andor, we’ve heard a great deal about you,” the man whom Brody had introduced as Major David Draven began. The Major looked like a typical, cold soldier, a bit out of place in his fine suite instead of an uniform. He followed immediately behind Cassian, hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers.

“Have you?” Cassian asked, still weary. Nothing that he did would bother Army Intelligence, but he wasn’t a trustful person. Behind him, the woman - Colonel Monica Mothma - and Brody joined them.

“Assistant professor of archaeology, expert on the occult, and, ah, how does one say it? Obtainer of rare antiquities?” Draven continued.

“That’s one way to say it.” Gesturing towards the chairs around the desks, he added. “Why don’t you sit down, you’ll be more comfortable.”

“Thank you,” Mothma replied in a calm and even gentle voice before taking a seat next to Draven. Cassian remained standing at the front of the desk, Brody obliquely behind him at the lectern.

“Thank you. You are a man of many talents. You studied under Professor Erso here at this very university?”

_ Straight to the chase then. _ Cassian was surprised. It was highly unlikely that Army Intelligence personnel were curious about him, but even he was more interesting than Galen Erso.

“Yes, I did.” Short, precise. Not giving too much away.

“You have no ideas about his present whereabouts?”

Cassian hesitated for a moment. He had always been curious where Galen had gone after their fallout, where Jyn had gone. “Ah, just rumours really, somewhere in Asia, I think,” he replied, establishing eye contact with Brody who nodded affirmatively. “I haven’t really spoken with him for two years. We were friends, very close friends. But, ah. We had a bit of a falling out I’m afraid.”

_ And that’s putting it mildly, _ his brain added.

Now Mothma picked up the ball, her serene face currently solemn. “Doctor Andor, now you must understand that this is all strictly confidential.”

“I understand,” Cassian immediately said, eager to get to the core of all this. He was worried about Galen. Worried about Jyn and whatever trouble they could be in.

Mothma looked around, almost paranoid, to make sure nobody else was eavesdropping. “Yesterday afternoon, our European sections intercepted a German communiqué that was sent from Cairo to Berlin.” She exchanged a glance with her colleague, who took it as a prompt to continue from there.

“You are aware that over the last two years, the Nazis have had teams of archeologists running around the whole world?”

“It didn’t escape my notice.” He did not like it and it seemed suspicious, but it was the least of his problems.

“Good. Apparently, they are looking for all kinds of religious artefacts. Patine’s nuts on the subject. He’s crazy. He’s obsessed with the occult. And right now, there’s apparently some kind of German archeological dig going on in the desert outside of Cairo.”

Now that was new.

Mothma, in the meantime, had made her own dig, only in her briefcase, finally pulling out a printed piece of paper.

“Now, we’ve got some information here, but we can’t make anything out of it and maybe you can,” she said, before starting to read, eyes on the paper to avoid mistakes.

“Tanis development proceeding. Acquire headpiece, Staff of Ra. Galen Erso, U.S.”

Cassian had exchanged a surprise glance with Brody immediately after the first syllables had left Mothma’s mouth. When she was finished, he pounded his fist on the desk, his voice filled with something between excitement and veneration. “The Nazis have discovered Tanis.”

“Yes,” Brody mouthed almost inaudible. Cassian moved away from the table, his back towards the officers.

“Just what does this mean to you, Tanis?” Draven inquired, clearly not familiar with the subject.

It all came back to Cassian in this moment. Hours of hearing Galen go on and on about Tanis, the lost city. Images of him sitting in the living room on the couch, sometimes with Jyn beside him who easily managed to steal away his thoughts. For the past two years, other information had shoved Tanis aside inside his brain, but the simple mention made it reappear instantly.

Before replying, he reminded himself that he could count himself lucky if the officers even knew where Egypt was. He had to explain it, even clearer and simpler than he would when speaking to a student.

“Well, ah,” Brody began, but Cassian immediately overruled him. “The city of Tanis is one of the possible resting places of the Lost Ark.”

“The Lost Ark?” Mothma asked, clearly not impressed and even less informed.

“Yes, the Ark of the Covenant,” Cassian replied, his voice a bit louder and more urging. “The chest the Hebrews used to carry around the Ten Commandments in.”

“What do you mean ‘Ten Commandments’? You mean THE Ten Commandments?” Draven asked.

“Yes, the actual Ten Commandments, the original stone tablets that Moses brought down out of Mount Horeb and smashed, if you believe in that sort of thing.”

Both faces remained impassive, unmoved. Cassian’s commotion had many reasons: a bit concern about Galen and Jyn, Nazi involvement and of course the possible discovery of the perhaps most mysterious pieces of history. He had been raised Catholic, but his studies had opened his view.

Still, the sheer tediousness these officers displayed somehow agitated him and he added: “Or don’t you go to church every Sunday?”

Draven remained unaffected and had changed his facial expressions from bored to skeptic in the meantime.

“Well, I,” Mothma began sheepishly, only to be interrupted by Cassian.

“Now, look, the Hebrews took the broken pieces and put them in the Ark. When they settled in Canaan, they put the ark in a place called the Temple of Solomon.”

“In Jerusalem,” Brody added, because he apparently thought this information wasn’t common knowledge for Army officers.

“Where it stayed for many years. Until all of sudden, whoosh, it is gone.”

“Where?” Draven immediately asked, suddenly interested again. Cassian wasn’t so narcissistic to believe it was due to his gripping narrative.

“Well, nobody knows where and when,” Cassian started and Brody chimed in again.

“However, an Egyptian pharaoh,” - “Shishak,” Cassian added - “ah, yes, invaded the city of Jerusalem ‘round about nine-eighty B.C. And they may have taken the Ark back to the city of Tanis. And hidden it in a secret chamber called the Well of Souls.”

“Secret chamber?” Draven asked, his voice dripping with jeer. But he kept his eyes and mind on both scientists as Brody spoke on.

“However, about a year after the pharaoh returned to Egypt, the city of Tanis was consumed by the desert in a sandstorm that lasted a whole year.” Brody paused and lowered his voice, sounding a bit like an old man who told his grandchildren a spook story while leaning towards the seated officers and using his face expressions to underline his words. “Wiped clean by the wrath of God.”

“Ah,” Draven murmured, rolling his eyes and turning in his seat as if he thought that this conversation had proven to be a waste of time. But Mothma placed a calming hand on his shoulder.

“Now, now, obviously, we’ve come to the right men. Now you seem to know, ah, well, all about this Tanis.” Maybe she wasn’t convinced yet, but Mothma was definitely more open to some unsecured historic facts than the major.

“No, no, not really,” Cassian replied and Brody nodded, confirming his assessment. “Galen is the real expert. He did the first serious work on Tanis. Collected some of it’s relicts. It was his obsession, really.”  _ That and his daughter. _ “But he never found the city.”

“Frankly, we’re somewhat suspicious of Mister Erso. An American being mentioned so prominently in a secret Nazi cable.” It was Draven again, although he still sounded repelled.

“Oh, rubbish! Erso’s no Nazi.” Brody interjected with a firm and decisive voice he rarely used, although he did not look at the officers, but at his shoes and then at some point to a point on their left.  _ Clever. He states his opinion without directly offending them. _ Cassian admired that in his friend.

“Well, but what do the Nazis want him for then?”

Brody was about to reply, but yet another time, Cassian was quicker. “Well, obviously, the Nazis are looking for the headpiece to the Staff of Ra and they think Galen’s got it,” Cassian replied, pointing to the paper on the desk.

“What exactly is the headpiece to the Staff of Ra?” Draven chimed in.

“Well, the staff is just a stick. Oh, I don’t know, about this big,” Cassian said, holding his outstretched hands somewhere between hip and shoulder to give the officers at least a rough estimate. “Nobody knows for sure how high it’s, it’s ah,” he turned around to the chalkboard, flipping it over and finding an empty space.

“Capped with an elaborate headpiece in the shape of the sun, with a kyber crystal in the center. And what you did was you’d take this staff into a special room in Tanis. A map room, with a miniature of the city all laid out on the floor.” Cassian emphasized his words with a simple, but hopefully helpful drawing.

“And if you put the staff in a certain place at certain time of day, the sun shone through here” - he drew a line right through the headpiece at the top of the staff -  “and made a beam that came down on the floor here. And gave you the exact location of the Well of Souls.”

“Where the ah, Ark of Covenant was kept, correct?” Mothma asked, now clearly invested in the discussion.

“Which is exactly what the Nazis are looking for,” Cassian turned to her, happy that finally one of them showed signs of enthusiasm. And maybe it even affected Draven, because the major joined in.

“What does this Ark look like?” It was actually a good question.

Cassian made two steps towards the desk, fiddling with the locks of a thick, ancient looking book. “I’ve got a picture of it right here,” he replied. After a few seconds, he opened a certain page of the book and moved it towards the officers.

Both stood up and even Brody had joined them at the desk to a take a look. “That’s it.”

In the picture, the Hebrew army was battling an unidentifiable foe and winning. Near the left top of the picture, a group of four men was carrying a long, golden chest topped with two golden cherubins. Two men in the front and two in the back lifted the ark using two long staffs which were pushed through golden rings linked to the chest. But more important than all the gold was a beam of green light coming out of the ark, hitting enemy soldiers and sowing panic and destruction within their ranks.

“Great god,” the skeptical Draven muttered.

“Yes, that’s just what the Hebrews thought,” Brody added wittily and with more than a touch of sarcasm, clearly enjoying the sudden role change.

“What’s that supposed to be coming out of there?” Mothma asked, pointing at the beam.

“Lightning, fire, power of God, or something like that,” Cassian said, shrugging his soldiers. “Galen was convinced that the Ark was the key to solving the mystery of pure and infinite energy. He theorized it had something to do with the Kyber crystals that were part of the Ark’s ornament. His wife was a geologist and both of them travelled the world in search for Kyber resources. Without any success.”

“I’m beginning to understand Patine’s interest in this thing,” Draven said, now serious or at least willing to give this whole affair some graveness.

“Oh, yes,” Brody joined in, his voice also back to serious. “The Bible speaks of the Ark leveling mountains and laying waste to entire regions. An army which carries the Ark before it is invincible.”

“Do you think that is possible?” Mothma asked both of them, her voice grave.

Brody shrugged. “Most stories have some truth in them.”

“I am unbiased,” Cassian added.

“Regardless of its real power, we have to consider Patine will take these stories at face value. He may think that with the Ark in his hands, his military will be invincible. He can at least derive a physiological benefit out of it.”

“There’s more to it.” Brody’s voice sounded anxious. “According to tradition, the Ark will be found at the time of the the return of the real messiah.”

“Maybe Patine thinks he’s the one.”

Silence reigned across the table. Cassian was worried. Maybe it was all religious superstition and the Germans were merely wasting resources digging around in the sand. But regardless of that, they were out to find Galen. He knew the man and he would never hand over the headpiece or join the Nazis, even if it meant discovering what he had pursued his whole life.

His heart beat faster. Unless Jyn was in danger. Galen would do everything to protect his daughter, especially since her mother died. And if the Nazis knew about Galen’s special knowledge, the would not hesitate to find him, especially if the Führer was personally interested in their endeavors.

Mothma’s sigh disrupted his thoughts. “Thank you, gentlemen. You were able to assist us greatly. I do hope we can contact you again if needed?”

“Of course, anytime,” Brody replied and Cassian nodded. He left it to Brody to show the officers out, while he remained on the podium, staring at the picture.

* * *

 

Back at his house, a small building the university had given him as part of his salary as long as he worked there, Cassian immediately went into his living room, which practically substituted as library, dining room and occasionally even as bedroom. Academic papers, books, pieces of paper, maps and clothes lay strewn out on the floor, the various shelves, on the desk, over the chairs or on the old sofa.

He ignored the chaos and headed straight for a smaller trunk that he had pushed under the sofa. Quickly unlocking it, a quick dig brought forward an old, dusty book. Galen’s diary, a present he gave Cassian when the Mexican had celebrated his last birthday before the Ersos left. It was a weird gift, but back then, he had assumed that Galen tried to prepare him for the day he would take them on yet another trip to search for the Ark.

Galen’s wife, Lyra, had been a geologist and the two of them had met each other at Cambridge. Being the daughter of a rather important professor, Lyra had been able to study even back then. Her fascination of Kyber crystals and Galen’s fascination about the Ark made two very different people find common ground and in the end, love. Love had led to Jyn.

But it wasn’t meant to last. Lyra’s death, back when Jyn was only eight, had thrown Galen into waves of depression and he had buried himself in his work just like he had buried his wife in her beloved English soil. Only an intervention by several of his friends, Brody among them, had gotten him out of the dark cave he had been in.

“There is one thing Lyra has left you behind. And it isn’t her work,” Brody had told him and finally managed to reach through to Galen. Father and daughter reconciled after some hard days filled with angry talks. But Galen couldn’t stand living in a land where his wife had died and so he and Jyn followed Brody’s invitation and moved the United States, accepting an open chair at Bedford.

When Cassian opened the book, a picture fell out of it. Cassian recognized it immediately. Jyn, Galen and him, smiling in front of Galen’s old house. It had been her 18th birthday. Even back then, he reminded himself, he was pining for her. In the years after that, the teenage crush had grown into love. Till they threw it away.

He spent the next few hours skimming through the book, desperate for any clue on Galen’s whereabouts. Only one seemed promising, a brief note on a suspected Kyber mine somewhere in the Himalayas. If fit with informations about Galen being in Asia.

His thoughts were interrupted by the shrill ringing of his doorbell. Cassian hadn’t even realized it was ten P.M. already.

When he opened the door, it revealed Marcus Brody, still dressed like earlier today and he was positively jolly. That could only mean one thing.

“You convinced them."

Brody replied with a nervous, but joyful laughter. “They want you to go for it.”

These words made Cassian laugh too, for so many reasons. He finally found a reason to reach out to Galen and Jyn again! And of course, there was the Ark. The Mount Everest of archaeology, one could say.

Still laughing, he patted Brody on the back and led him into the overstuffed living room.

“They want you to get ahold of the Ark. They talked to their superiors in Washington and then came to me. They need you. They want you. Of course, they are military men, and as such above such petty beliefs as magic or godly powers. But still, they want the Ark as such an ‘object of historical and cultural significance cannot be allowed to fall into the hands of a fascist power.’ They want you to get ahold of the Ark before before the Nazis do and they are prepared to pay handsomely for it,” Brody continued. It was getting better and better. Granted, Cassian would have taken this mission without pay at all, but he still had a job here, a new semester had just begun.

“And the museum. The museum gets the Ark when we’re finished?” he asked, receiving a nod from Brody.

“Oh, yes.” Smiling like school children who had managed to play a rather funny prank on their teacher, both academics shook hands.

Cassian reached for the bottle of Scotch on the table, pouring two glasses and handing one to Brody.

“Oh, the Ark of the Covenant,” he said, almost awestruck.

“Nothing else has come close,” Brody agreed. They didn’t need too many words. Both knew what this whole expedition meant. 

“That thing represents everything we got into archaeology for in the first place.”

Still smiling, they downed their drinks. Unable to stand still now that he had a mission, Cassian proceeded to search for several pieces, clothes, maps or equipment he would need. “Then there’s no time to waste. If I leave tomorrow, I can catch the next plane from San Francisco to Manila.”

“You know, five years ago, I would have gone after it myself. I’m really rather envious,” Brody said, joining Cassian in walking around the room. Cassian doubted that Marcus would have been the right choice for such a task, but he was kind enough not to say this out loud. He respected the man and he could understand the excitement. But this mission was custom-tailored for Cassian.

Among the things he threw into the trunk were his whip, some trousers, another fedora. Brody had gone silent, made his way to the bookshelf and picked one of its contents, skimming through it without really reading it.

“I’ve got to locate Galen. I think I know where to start.” And after a pause, Cassian added. “Suppose she’ll still be with him?”

“Of course. You know Jyn even better than I do. She won’t let that old fool go alone, wherever he goes.”

Cassian knew that all too well.

“But Jyn will be the least of your worries right now, believe me, Cassian,” Brody continued and all happiness and excitement had left his voice. He really sounded rather bleak.

“You know I’m not a doubter like those officers. They are soldiers and they pride themselves with living in the ‘real world’. But nearly three thousand years man has been searching for the Lost Ark. Not something to be taken lightly. I’m convinced it has some powers and secrets of its own. Dangerous secrets. It’s like nothing you have gone after before.”

Cassian wanted to scoff at these doom-mongering words, but when his eyes found Brody’s, he only found concern there; no glee, mockery or envy.

“I don’t want to lose you, Cassian. And you know how dangerous Africa can be.”

The warning was nothing new for Cassian. Brody always got kinda gloomy when one his friends decided to travel to Africa. On his first birthday, Marcus’s mother had learned that her brother had been killed in the Battle of Isandlwana, assegaid by Zulu warriors. A young corporal had delivered the last letter written by Colonel Henry Pulleine.

Dark stains covered it. Henry’s blood.

Brody’s mother had taken the loss of her brother very hard and therefore, her son’s birthday always had a bitter off-taste. Granted, Cairo was just as far away from South Africa as London was, but Brody was worried nonetheless.

Cassian could have waved that away as some sort of superstition paired with personal bad memories, but Brody wasn’t wrong. The Nazis were involved, he was about to travel to the most dangerous mountain range in the world and maybe Jyn would kill him. Or Galen would. All his enthusiasm aside, Brody’s concerns were more than justified.

“Don’t worry, Marcus, I won’t leave you alone here. You know what a cautious fellow I am,” he replied, putting on a smile to calm his last true friend. It didn’t quite soothe the Englishman.

“If you knew how many people told me that,” was his sad reply. It was true. First his wife, than Galen and Jyn and now Cassian. Work could only cover a certain amount of your lifetime. He was half-tempted to take Marcus with him. But no. That would most likely result in a disaster.

“Well, I leave you to your packing. Shall we have breakfast tomorrow before you head to the airport?”

“Yes, that would be nice,” Cassian answered while escorting his friend to the door. “9.30 A.M.?”

Brody nodded and after exchanging a quick handshake, he was gone, disappearing into the darkness. Cassian couldn’t help but realize how sweaty Brody’s hand had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that! The hunt for the Ark is on!
> 
> As always, there is quite a lot background information, historical events/facts in this chapter and of course some name changes. If you want to find out what's the reason for this, read the notes for this chapter [here](https://thenewleeland.tumblr.com/post/161366731296/rotla-chapter-three-authors-notes). It really helps to understand many plot-relevant details.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Next week, we'll have a closer look at Cassian's nemesis, Ognjen Krennić!


	4. Interlude: Dubrovnik

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> True to his orders, Oberst Tarkin finds Ognjen Krennić in Café Dubravka in Dubrovnik. Both men can't stand each other, but the temptation of the Ark seems enough to convince Krennić to join the German expedition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another quick interlude that shows us how Cassian's antagonist is recruited. Also, we find out who Ognjen Krennić is, what he thinks and what his ambitions are.
> 
> I always love to write Tarkin and I won't lie, having Krennić trash him, Patine and basically everything else was kinda amusing as well.
> 
> Once again, special thanks to [Kobo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kobo/pseuds/Kobo) for being the most awesome beta in the world! :) I know it must sound like some sort of standard sentence now, but it makes it no less true.

* * *

 

Dubrovnik was more than just a city for Ognjen Krennić. Yes, it was a beautiful city. A city with history. A city fitting for an archaeologist like himself.

No, the allegiance of this old city was an epitome to Krennić’s own. Over the course of history, Dubrovnik had been under the control of many different factions, empires, states and republics. The Byzantine Empire, the Republic of Venice, the Kingdom of Hungary. Even as the independent Republic of Ragusa, as it was known from 1358 to 1808, it had always managed to stay between the enemy frontlines and out of the line of fire. When the Ottoman Empire conquered most of the Balkans, Dubrovnik remained free.

And why? Because it was important. Maritime trade had made the city rich. Wealth and good diplomacy brought one much more further in a world than blunt military force alone.

Ognjen Krennić remembered as much as he sat in Café Dubravka, enjoying a cup of bitter coffee and a cigar. Although located outside of the walled historic center of the city, it offered a stunning view of the fortresses Lovrijenac, Bokar and Minčeta. Tree tops of centennial plane trees provided cover from the burning sun. Krennić had been wise enough to dress lightly, a thin outfit made out of white cotton. Airy, but still sophisticated and proper.

The same couldn’t be said about the grim and cross-looking man who slowly made his way through a sea of tables, chairs and other visitors. Krennić had spotted him the moment Wilhelm Tarkin had appeared on the patio.

Granted, his outfit, a black suit with matching suit pants and brogues including spats, were top-of-the-line, but far too hot to wear here at the coast. The top hat fell in the same category.

A blind man could have seen how uncomfortable the Oberst felt in this unfamiliar outfit. But high ranking Nazi officers weren’t welcome in the Kingdom of Yugoslavia. Still, they way Tarkin walked gave it away easily. _You can take a soldier out of his uniform, but you can’t take the soldier out of him_ , Krennić mused, a light smile on his face.

“ _Dobar dan, Herr Tarkin_ ,” he greeted his visitor once the German had halted in front of Krennić’s table. Another smile appeared on his face once he realized that he achieved his goal and managed to annoy the man even more with just four words. Greeting him in a Slavic language and addressing him in German? He could see Tarkin grind his jaws. This day might just turn out to be funny.

“Krennić,” he growled, sounding like a discontent dog. And that’s just what he was, wasn’t he? A lap dog of the Führer. A dangerous dog, sure, but just a dog. Someone who executed orders, but had no visions of his own. Like so many people.

Tarkin had sat down without being asked to, but Krennić wasn’t surprised. The man lacked basic manners.

“We have a job for you. A well paid job,” Tarkin began, forcing every single word out of his mouth. Krennić smiled again. Yes, he and Tarkin had only met a handful of times, once in Africa and twice in Berlin. Neither of them had any lasting memories. Some people you meet only briefly, but still hate them. It was one of the wonders of life, Krennić supposed.

“Ah, yes. Your little dig in Cairo,” Krennić began, satisfied when Tarkin’s face grew a little darker. “Don’t act surprised, Oberst, even you must realize that hiring a few hundred workers and bringing armed personnel to a country that is still controlled by the British, no matter what fancy treaties they sign, isn’t really inconspicuous. I’m surprised they haven’t already thrown you back into the _Mittelmeer_.”

“We have our ways,” Tarkin snarled.

“Yes, I’m sure of it. But you’re still here, in dire need of my assistance. Don’t waste your time and much more important, my time. You want the Ark, but as none of your _Dichter und Denker_ have the required knowledge about the object itself or archaeology, you came to me. So let’s make this simple: I’ll help you locate the Ark, you pay me. Handsomely. But finding the Ark is just the tip of the iceberg.”

Tarkin said nothing, just glared at Krennić as if he considered throwing him over the wall and into the blue waters of the Adriatic sea. With another condescending smile, Krennić continued.

“Yes, I know what your Führer really wants. Understandable. But just like you, he has no idea what he’s got to deal with. I, on the other hand, do. So you’ll will have to test its power. Would be a shame if the Ark levelled Berlin, wouldn’t it? A sudden end to your _Tausendjähriges Reich_.”

Tarkin was slowly stirring towards his boiling point. “You have no respect for anything, do you?”

Krennić just shook his head, taking a sip from his coffee. They were all the same. All those idiots who dedicated themselves to a cause, religion or an ideology. Not just in Germany, also here in Croatia. Running around, screaming “ _Za dom spremni!_ ” It amused him to no end. Yes, for now, they were on top or at least on the ascending branch. But for how long? All Empires crumble. It’s their destiny.

He remembered what his dear grandmother had used to sing every time something bad had happened.

 

_Skalinada, skalinada_

_tu se penje, tu se pada_

_to je sudba, to je nada, skalinada_

_Skalinada, skalinada,_

_svaki korak jedna skala,_

_svaka skala jedna nada, skalinada_

 

And it was true. Sometimes you climb, sometimes you fall. Tarkin was climbing, but he would fall sooner or later. If Krennić played his cards well, he might just be around to see it. That thought was worth another smile.

A voice from one of the neighboring tables cut through said thoughts: “ _C'est assez plaisant, mais c'est loin d'être Deauville.”_

Now it was Krennić’s turn to snarl as he looked at the mustached French man. His clothes immediately identified him as a rich fool who thought wasting his money by travelling through the world would make him a cultural expert. None but fools! At least it annoyed Tarkin too. Krennić hadn’t thought it possible, but the Oberst’s face went even darker as he heard words spoken in a language he despised.

“Very well. We have already planned a... thorough examination of the Ark once it has been found. And your pay,” he added disgusted, “should be more than fair. The Führer has high hopes in this project.”

Krennić nodded. Ah, yes, Patine. Another fool. A petty painter who thinks that his plans for the world will actually come into fruition one day. How could such a small-minded lunatic even become the leader of a country like Germany? Krennić wasn’t a cynic, but today’s politics were a laughing affair to a man like him.

Countries, armies, borders. All these faded into insignificance next to the Ark. All men tried to influence history. The Ark was history. You couldn’t create history. History is there already. And Ognjen Krennić would be the one to discover one of the greatest secrets this world had ever produced. Not for the glory or for the power. No. His personal triumph would be the greatest price. The knowledge that he and he alone had found it. Tarkin, his soldiers, even Patine. All of them were just tools. Mere henchmen. Alone, he wouldn’t be able to master the numerous obstacles. It was a good thing that Tarkin wasn’t aware of that.

However, there was more than one problem on the way to his glory: Galen Erso, his old friend from earlier studying days.

Galen had gotten him interested into the Ark in the first place. At the beginning, it seemed like a mere obsession of Erso’s, one Krennić had pretended to be intrigued with, but the feigning soon had turned into genuine interest. An old artifact wielding unspeakable power and harboring untold secrets? How could he not be tempted?

Granted, he did not believe in religious superstition. He had been raised Catholic, yes, but an archaeologist did not put faith in such things. Not when there was so much prove against it.

Still, the Ark was shrouded in mystery. Maybe it was something godly within it. Maybe it would make him a believer again.

“You will need the headpiece of the Staff of Ra from Erso, you know that?” he asked.

Tarkin nodded, a satisfied expression now on his face. “I’ve already sent some men to… obtain it.”

Krennić snorted. “What men? Is an archaeologist among them?” He seriously doubted Tarkin had a lead on the headpiece. Erso was dead.

“No,” was the simple and expected reply.

“Ah, so you sent a few of your goons.” He made no attempt to hide his disdain.

“Professionals,” Tarkin answered with gritted teeth.

“Yes, I’m sure of it. Professional ruffians. Your country produces those by the dozen. How shall they know if they found the right headpiece? How will they know that it isn’t a replica?” Krennić knew Erso too well. The old fool had refused to hand over the headpiece when they saw each other the last time, just a few months ago, somewhere in the cold mountains of Nepal.

Tarkin grinned maliciously. “The secret is not to know what you are looking for, but to know where to find it.”

Now it was Krennić’s turn to be surprised. “You know where to find it?” Had Galen given it to the young protégé of his, Andor? No. They had some sort of fight. A fight over…

Jyn.

Of course.

Krennić’s face turned red with anger and shame. Of course, the girl wasn’t dead. Galen just had gotten better at lying. So she was out there somewhere, she and the headpiece. Galen must had given it to her before he embarked on his last expedition. He should have known.

* * *

 

“You are a hard man to find, Galen.” Krennić’s words were nearly swallowed by the never stopping snowstorm that whipped through the dark valley. More than 14,000 feet above sea level, the air was thin. It took its toll on Krennić and he felt queasy.

His hired henchmen, both tall Sherpas who carried pistols, had no such problems. They had been born here and made a living out of guiding fools up and down those mountains. And sometimes, you could hire them for some tougher work.

“Mountaineering, Galen. Really? I admire your dedication, but honestly, it has to stop.”

“What do you want, Ognjen?” Galen hadn’t aged well since Lyra died. His face had gotten leaner, his hair greyer. And he seemed tired and not just because of the punishing wind that tore on his clothes.

“My own researches have met a dead end. I need you to come back.”

“You have far too little faith in your own skills. If you just would work harder instead of trying to salvage other people’s ideas, you would have a better reputation. And you would be more accomplished.”

Krennić flashed his teeth. Always the moralistic one. “You will come back, Galen. We were so close to achieving greatness. Finding the Ark, uncovering its secrets. Freeing its power.”

Galen seemed unmoved. Krennić had to try a different angle.

“Think of your daughter. Lyra wouldn’t want her to be raised here, in the dirt and with the very bottom of human life. Where is she? I know her better than to leave her old man doing such foolish things.”

Galen’s face dropped and Krennić had to strain his ears to hear his next words. “She died. Pneumonia.”

Krennić gave his face a sad look, that of a trained actor. “Just like her mother then. I’m so sorry, Galen. The weather didn’t help for sure.”

The last sentence was too much. Galen had never been a fighter, but he still reached for a pistol he had somehow tugged away in his wool coat. At the same moment, Krennić’s goons drew their own guns.

Three shots rang out.

Then, an echo.

Then, silence.

And suddenly, the whole world came tumbling down.

An avalanche, triggered by the sounds of the gunshots. Krennić ran and ran, leaving the shell shocked Sherpas behind. Leaving behind Galen’s unmoving body in the snow, a red puddle slowly forming beneath it. But you couldn’t outrun an avalanche.

Snow covered him like a deadly blanket and he fell asleep.

* * *

 

If he had still been a religious man, he would have called his survival a miracle. An Australian expedition, set on climbing the Dorje Lhakpa, found him buried under a thin layer of snow that very night. It had taken weeks to recuperate from frostbite, altitude sickness and general exhaustions.

The bodies of the Sherpas were never found. Just like Galen Erso’s body.

Krennic had thought that this was the end of his search for the Ark. No headpiece, no Galen, no chance. A bitter pill to swallow, especially considering the huge expenses he had to cover, not to mention the valuable time.

He had been far too weak and too sure that his search was over, so he didn’t even bother checking if Galen had told him the truth about Jyn. After all, the girl was of little consequence. Tarkin would no doubt be amused. A German soldier would have double checked everything.

* * *

 

Tarkin didn’t know what had ruined Krennić’s mood, but considering his facial expression, he was more than happy about it. Their roles were reversed. Now, the German grinned, while the Croatian growled.

“Yes. When we arrive in Kairo, my agents will have acquired it already.” The Oberst seemed very pleased with himself.

Krennić nodded, finishing his coffee and putting out his cigar on an ashtray on the table. “What are we waiting for then?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Game on!
> 
> As always, there is quite a lot background information, historical events/facts in this chapter and of course some other changes. If you want to find out what's the reason for this, read the notes for this chapter [here](https://thenewleeland.tumblr.com/post/161635886031/rotla-chapter-four-authors-notes). It really helps to understand many plot-relevant details and offers translations of sentences and technical terms that are not in English.
> 
> Thanks for reading! The next chapter will be huge and feature not only Jyn's and Cassian's reunion and a barfight, but also another Rogue entering the story.


	5. Nepal, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an arduous journey, Cassian arrives in Nepal’s capital Kathmandu, where he meets with his Chinese contact Lin Su. He tells the archaeologist that Galen's trace leads to Patan. Travelling through the snowy Himalayas, Cassian finally finds Jyn, but the reunion is not what he has hoped for...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, originally, this was one huge chapter which basically included Cassian arriving in Kathmandu, travelling to Patan, talking with Jyn and so on till they leave Nepal again to travel to Egypt.
> 
> However, from my own experience, such enormous chapters take a long time to read. I have several really large chapter updates I want to read lying around for two weeks or so. Uploading them takes much more time too. A final point is that I have nothing written past Nepal and that would have meant that the next update would take way longer than a week.
> 
> Therefore, I split the big chapter up. Both parts are 5k+ long and have some important scenes in it, so I hope you'll enjoy them separately nevertheless.
> 
> Rejoice, it's finally time for Jyn and Cassian to meet again!
> 
> Once again, special thanks to [Kobo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kobo/pseuds/Kobo) for being the most awesome beta in the world! :)
> 
> Special thanks as well to [ibohemianam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ibohemianam/pseuds/ibohemianam) and seydisfiordarkaupstadir for helping out with some additional languages! :)

* * *

It was true that Cassian couldn’t abide the equatorial heat of countries like Peru, but he wasn’t found of extraordinary cold either. And it didn’t get any colder than in the Himalayas.

The journey all the way from New England to Asia had been long and arduous. He had taken a flight from New York to San Francisco and from there to Shanghai with stops in Honolulu, Wake Island and Manila in the Philippines. That part had been the easy one. A fairly large and modern plane, refreshments. He used the time as well as he could, studying Galen’s diary for clues about the Ark.

Also, he carried more than 5000 Dollars in his pocket. A bribe, should Galen be not interested in loaning him the headpiece. The sum was generous and Cassian was rather sure Galen would need it. Professors didn’t make much money after all, and Galen hadn’t held a chair for two years.

He still remembered the day as if it was yesterday. Cassian returned to Bedford from a trip to Mexico. One he shouldn’t have taken. Instead of a furious Jyn, he found Brody sitting on the front porch of the Erso home. Sipping a brandy. Cassian knew right then some foul play was afoot. Brody rarely drank.

He stared out through the plane window, but the darkness and the snowstorm prevented him from seeing the high, cold and jagged mountain tops of the Himalayas. The machine was old, a bit rusty and considering the airline employed the less than reassuring slogan “Our planes always find the way down”, Cassian wasn’t sure he would live to see another day. No, it was very likely they would hit one of the numerous mountains.

The descent was everything but calming. The plane went down rather abruptly, but he decided to be generous and blame it on the geographic circumstances and not on the pilot. Five minutes later, the plane touched down, the tires hitting the snowy runway. One less problem to worry about.

The wind on the tarmac was nippy and Cassian rushed to the near hangar, clutching his briefcase to his chest and pulling his favorite blue parka with a comfy and fuzzy hood closer around himself. Due to the sheer mass of people penned inside, the building was a tiny bit warmer than the tarmac. He hurried through customs - one aging man in uniform who glanced at his passport for a second (Cassian doubted the man could read) and gave him the go ahead - and was soon surrounded by ruffians, beggars, homeless children and various street merchants. All those immediately recognised him as some sort of Westerner, which meant money.

Cassian blazed a trail through all these people, leaving behind stands selling donkeys, spicy food and other useless stuff. He had spotted what he was looking for.

Lin Su wasn’t a tall man, a few inches smaller than Cassian. The Mexican had met him four years ago in Los Angeles, where Lin Su’s nephew was studying. There had been some trouble with immigrations, he couldn’t recall what it was exactly, but Cassian had helped a bit and earned a favor he was now cashing in.

Lin Su led him away from the small airfield and into a side road, where they found cover from the biting wind in a small house entrance.

“Hen gaoxin zai ke jian dao ni. Tai jiu mei jian.” Cassian’s Chinese was far from good, but he understood what the man had said. _I'm glad to see you again. It has been a long time._

“Shi de,” Cassian replied. _Yes, indeed._

“Wo you ni de dianbao, keshi wo dei wen: ni you bei gen zhe ma?” - _I got your cable, of course. You have to forgive me for asking, but: Were you followed?_ Lin Su continued, looking over his shoulder, but not seeming nervous. There was no real reason for it, at least not based on what the Chinese man knew.

Cassian decided to be honest. “Meiyou. Wo kending.” _Not that I know._

Lin Su nodded, apparently completely satisfied. Sunzhe ni de xunling, wo you ni de qingbao, shi hen bu rongyi de na dao. Zher mei shen tongxun, mei dianhua, zhende shi huofuwuchang. _”_ That was the point where Cassian’s Chinese met his end. With an apologetic smile, he slowly nodded his head. He had understood something, but the information was way too critical.

But Lin Su seemed to realize that and replied in quite good English. ”I have gathered information, as requested. It is hard to get information in a land like this. You know that. No communication links. And the weather of course. That damned snow aggravates it. Telephones are rare.”

Well, that was not surprising. Nepal wasn’t very developed, it had little to offer and had never been colonized. Silently, he wondered how anybody could life here. Smuggling, most likely.

“But I can tell you that Galen Erso has been spotted near Patan. That’s all I can say for sure, the rest are just some baseless rumours.” Lin Su’s next sentence was more interesting.

Cassian paused a moment to think about this new development. “Patan you said. How old is that information?”

“A few weeks at the most. He’s probably still there.” Lin Su bowed his head, as if he felt ashamed. “I’m sorry that I can’t provide better information, my friend.”

Cassian felt a little bad for the man. He wasn’t from Kathmandu, that’s for sure, but he still travelled here and went to considerable lengths to obtain information. That was far more than he could have hoped for. “You did very well, Lin Su. I owe you a favor. How do I get to Patan?”

The Chinese man lifted a finger, smiling. “With that, I can help. Please follow me.”

Cassian did as he was bidden and both of them went further down the road. In front of a large building, apparently a hotel of the shadiest kind, a small black automobil stood. Lin Su proudly presented it. “You can have my car. Inside, you will find the best map available. I must warn you, the roads are very bad and the snow will make things even worse the higher you go. I’ve already marked the way to Patan on the map.”

Cassian nodded gratefully, opening the door and studying said map. It was rather easy, Patan was one of the larger settlements around here.

“Thank you, Lin Su. If you ever need any form of help, call on me,” Cassian said and he meant it.

The Chinese man smiled and nodded. “Good luck, Cass-i-an.” It almost sounded Chinese the way he pronounced it. Both men exchanged a firm handshake through the open car window and then Cassian drove down the street, leaving Lin Su behind, grinning from ear to ear. He even waved after him.

* * *

 

The trip to Patan took hours. Cassian had arrived late in the evening, but the weather conditions were so bad that it mattered little if it was night or day. The Mexican was glad he couldn’t see much left and right of the road, otherwise he would have been scared for his life. Abysses, chasms and ravines, hundreds of meters deep on the left side, unstable rocks on the right. The road itself was rough and more than once he had to leave his vehicle to push away snow. Despite having slept on the plane, he grew tired.

How could anybody live here? The soil couldn’t possibly support any form of agriculture, even animals would starve. No, the only reason why people still lived here was mountaineering. He had heard about various Western expeditioners who tried to claim fame for themselves and their home country by being the first to climb some lonesome peak. Cassian did not understand it.

It was still the middle of the night when he reached some scattered huts, made out of rough stones and capped with straw. Considering that there was no other settlement on his route, he concluded that his had to be Patan.

He followed the road further before stopping when the houses became more closely spaced. Tumbling towards him came a man, obviously intoxicated. He was dressed in a parka just like Cassian himself, completely made out of grey wool.

When he spotted Cassian, he stopped, clearly unsure what to make of the man. Cassian guessed robberies where a common occurrence here, so he held up his empty hands as he slowly approached the man.

It was no Native or some other Asian for sure. He could spot a bit of blond hair protruding beneath the man’s fur cap. “Что надо?” the man began.

Cassian wasn’t too familiar with the languages, but he was pretty sure his collocutor was Russian. But Cassian did not speak Russian, so he tried his luck with English.

“Hey, there,” he began slowly, trying his best to speak loud and clear. If the man understood at least a bit English, it might help. “I'm looking for a man named Erso?”

“Чего? Я нихрена не понял.” The man came closer, nodding his head. _Well, that didn’t work._

“Do you know a man named Erso?” he tried again, pronouncing the name. Even if they never found common ground, names didn’t change that much no matter the language.

“Эрсо?” The man repeated, earning an encouraging nod from Cassian.

“Постой-ка, ты ищешь тот стрёмный бар? А, так это вниз по улице. Там стоит единственное деревянное здание, на нём ещё огни всякие висят. Тебе туда, не промахнёшься.” The man spoke, not really fast, but it was clear that he knew something and the name Erso was familiar for him. That was at least a start.

The Russian saw that Cassian did not understand a word he said and with a sigh, came closer, grabbing him by the shoulder. Not roughly, but Cassian’s hand still went to the revolver in his pocket.

“Эрсо. Туда! Иди туда!” He enthusiastically repeated, pointing towards a rather large and not-so-shady-looking house further down the road. Faint voices could be heard. Well, at least he might find someone he could actually understand there.

Given the circumstances, the man had done his best to help. He couldn’t ask for more. “Ah, thank you,” he replied and the man gave him a reassuring pat on the back, who smiled and continued lurching further down the road.

Cassian had grown up in a small village in the mountains, but the summits rising up into the dark sky dwarfed the Mexican ones. While it had often been cold, he had never seen such amounts of snow.

He could live without it.

As Cassian approached the dimly lighted house, the voices grew louder, but he couldn’t understand them. A mix of various foreign languages and considering the articulation, most of them were drunk as a skunk.

But it was the only open business in this sorry excuse for a town and bars were always the best place to get information. He knew how to deal with the rougher kind of human beings.

Opening the door, he saw a rather big room, filled with several groups of wooden chairs and tables, a L-shaped bar to the left of the door. The smell of alcohol, various sorts of tabak and smoke was overwhelming. Cassian wasn’t too familiar with it, but he was rather sure his nose could pick out even the faint odor of hashish.

It was a bit nice, even. Hart to Hart one might say.

The tumultuous crowd gathered there seemed like a stew made out of men from all over the globe. Indians, local Sherpas from Nepal, Mongolian bandits, armed with guns and even some antique swords, Chinese smugglers and some Westerners. Most likely mountaineers, here to climb the nearby summits. A whole conglomeration of human flotsam.

Directly in front of the bar, a large group had gathered, waving money bills in the air and screaming even louder than the rest of the guests. A drinking competition, Cassian assumed. The Mexican slowly made his way through the sea of human bodies, mindful not to pick any fights. He could handle himself, but nearly everyone here was way taller than him. With his luck, he might just agitate the one person who could help him.

He could see one of the opponents now, definitely a mountain climber, but he looked like a mountain himself. Twice as large and three times as heavy as Cassian. Searching blindly for one full glass of of spirit, he roared something with a thick Australian accent. He managed to reach it and slowly guided it to his lips.

The competition must have been going on for a long time. Counting the glass in the frying-pan-like hand of the Australian, there were only four full ones left. Twelve were already empty. A tie.

Muscling past two grumpy looking Indians, who briefly considered defending their prime view with their fists, he finally got a glimpse of the Australian’s competitor.

His heart skipped a beat.

It was her.

She hadn’t changed much in the two years. Maybe a bit tougher, rougher edges. But otherwise she was the same vision of beauty she always had been and the memory of the last time they had seen each other on a summer evening on her father’s front porch immediately overwhelmed him again. Truth be told, it had never left him. Haunted him.

Cassian stood petrified as the Australian gulped down his glass and put it back on the table, earning a cheer from the crowd. He was definitely the favorite. A man weighing one hundred and forty kilogram versus a young woman weighing perhaps fifty? Easy contest.

But these fools didn’t know Jyn Erso.

Her bright green eyes, eyes that had always hypnotized him and always had managed to pull him away from everything he thought about, no matter how important it was, were fixed on her opponent. Her hand was trembling when she reached for the glass. Taking it as a sign of weakness, more money was brought forth. It seemed like a safe bet to wager the Australian would win after all.

But once again, these fools didn’t know Jyn Erso.

Once enough money was on the table, all signs of weakness were gone. With one swift movement, she downed her glass, putting it back on the table and giving the Australian a snarky smile.

The man’s eyes were glassy as he aimed for his final shot glass. He managed to pick it up and raise it to his lips, but the simple and small movement to tilt it back completely wasted him. Like a felled tree, he collapsed, nearly crushing a pair of Chinese men who had been standing behind his chair.

The room turned silent. With a smile that reminded Cassian of a hungry predator, Jyn pocketed the money on the table, seemingly completely unfazed by the amount of alcohol she had consumed. Nobody dared to interfere.

Maybe not all of them were fools who didn’t know Jyn Erso.

Still scowling at the crowd, she grabbed the last glass on the table, drank it down while muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “riff-raffs”. She proceeded to wave her arms over her head and bellowed something in a foreign language, perhaps Nepalese. Cassian couldn’t even understand a word, but the meaning was clear. It was curfew.

Muttering a few complaints - none too loud or serious - the mixture of crooks and villagers streamed past Cassian towards the door, those who were less drunk supporting those who could hardly walk anymore. At the door, a tall Nepalese, who had left his post behind the bar, waved the last stragglers out, an axe shaft in his hand to discourage possible troublemakers.

No one objected. Cassian still stood petrified at his place, unnoticed by both Jyn, who faced the wall, and the Nepalese, who had gone out into the street to make sure that all of their esteemed guests really left and did not loiter around to come back later.

“Hello, Jyn,” he finally managed to squeak out, but his voice sounded weak and apologetic. Not the confident way he had imagined. But it was all too much. No Galen, just her, in charge of a dingy bar at the end of the world. And he felt guilty. Responsible. Ashamed.

Jyn turned around and for a brief moment, she was as shocked and rooted to the spot as he was. But then, a smile appeared on her face. Cassian had catalogued her smiles like he catalogued his findings (with even more affection) and he knew this was not a happy one. It was condescending, bitter and angry.

Her voice was calm when she spoke and almost amused. “Cassian Andor. I always knew you would come back one day. I never doubted it. You came finally.”

For a brief moment, hope took hold of his heart. She seemed glad that he came back. Yes, some years late of course, but still. Maybe she had already forgiven him, had come to understand why he left in the first place. The affection was still there obviously. With a rare smile, he stepped forward, ready to take her into his arms once more.

That was when her fist impacted on his jaw.

Jyn had always been a feral person, it was part of her charm. But Cassian had never had the misfortune to be on the receiving end. The punch was well-placed, hard, and he hit the ground. Cassian was stunned, but not for long, as not even a second later, a warm, not so heavy weight landed on his chest. Another reminder of better days and he felt the blood leaving his brain and rushing to other regions.

But Jyn was far far away from doing that to him. Instead, she grabbed the collar of his shirt, hammering his head again and again against the hard wooden floor. “YOU! RAN! AWAY! YOU! LEFT! ME!” With every screamed word, his head impacted on the floor again. Cassian was powerless, tired from hours of driving through the dark and too emotionally imbalanced by the sight of her.

The Nepalese barman had returned and studied the scene unfolding before his eyes. He spoke in his rough language and that gave Cassian a few seconds of dearly needed respite.

“No, he’s not my husband,” Jyn furiously replied, clearly indignant. The Nepalese just shrugged his shoulders. “You can go home, Mohan. I’ll deal with him myself.”

The man nodded, left his axe shaft on the bar and closed the door behind him.

Jyn had stood up, leaving Cassian lying on the floor and once again regretting his life choices. The hammering in his head was in equal parts physical and psychological pain. He could have done without any of it.

“What are you doing here? And don’t tell me you finally found your conscience and came to beg me for forgiveness?” Her voice, once so kind with him, sounded derisive now. It broke his heart a little more. But he knew he deserved it.

“Jyn,” he began, slowly rising from the floor, still fearing she would hit him again if he said something wrong. He wasn’t in the mood to fight back. “I’m sorry for what I did. But you knew what would happen if…”

“No, I did not.” Her voice cut through him and she spun around, green eyes fixed on his face. There was fire inside them and he could feel it burning him. “You just assumed the worst would happen. That’s always your problem. You think the worst will happen and as long as you don’t try finding it out, everything is alright. But this time, you had to do it. Take the leap. But you wussed out. You ran. You left me!” Her voice had grown angrier, irate even.

“I never meant to hurt you,” Cassian weakly replied, earning another angry laugh from Jyn.

“As if there was any chance it wouldn’t hurt me. Instead of asking him, you disappeared on a dig in Mexico for weeks. You didn’t even leave a note. If Marcus hadn’t seen you on the way to the airport, we would have thought someone had taken you!”

She came closer again and despite her tiny frame, he was more afraid of her then of anything he had faced in his life. Krennic, the Hovito warriors, border patrols, crooks. All of them paled in comparison to small and angry Jyn Erso.

If looks could kill, Cassian would be as dead as the Aztec rulers whose graves he had searched for instead of staying with Jyn.

“Jyn, I’m sorry. I really am. What else can I say?” He really didn’t know. For all his professional knowledge about history and archaeology, relationships had always been hard. As a child, there were no deep talks about his feelings. His parents were dead and although his uncle and aunt gave their best, they couldn’t replace them. Galen and Marcus always had some sort of authority over him, at least he felt like that. Not to mention the age difference.

He could tell Jyn the truth. But he feared it would burn the last bit of the bridge still connecting them.

“Say nothing. Get out!” She replied, but her voice was tired now, all anger burned out and replaced by resignation. In a way, it was worse than screaming.

Jyn was a emotional person. Whenever she screamed or complained, he knew she cared. Now it sounded like she didn’t.

But he had another reason to be here. Maybe talking about something different would help them calm down. Maybe then they could talk about what happened again. Later.

“Jyn, I need to speak to your father, it is of the utmost importance.” Her shoulders sagged upon his request when he added a stressed “Please.”

She looked down on the dirty floor. “You’re too late for that.”

Cassian arched his eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

With a sigh, Jyn let her head sink to her chest before she started cleaning up the tables, collecting empty glasses. “Papa’s dead. An avalanche caught him a few months ago. He was sure that some Kyber crystals were hidden inside the mountains.”

Cassian stumbled back and fell into a wooden chair. Galen. Dead. His mentor. His father figure. (He had hoped to call him “father” one day and mean it.)

Cassian wasn’t unfamiliar with death, but the news still wrecked him. Another wave of agonizing guilt drowned him. He was dead because of him. He never knew why the Ersos had left Bedford before he came back, but it had to do with him, of course. Jyn had told him of their plans and Galen had reacted like Cassian thought he would - how couldn’t he, with Cassian running away before asking - and decided to remove his daughter from Cassian’s influence.

At least it was the story he had told himself to ease his guilty conscience at night.

He had told it to Marcus once. But the Englishman had just looked at him with a mixture of disgust and pity, called him “stupido” and left the room, his head still shaking.

“I’m so sorry,” he stammered again, but Jyn wasn’t really listening, her shoulders slightly shaking, fighting sobs. The Ark was forgotten for a moment and he felt the dire need to hug her, comfort her and apologize for all the things he had done to her. But when he stepped closer, her eyes he returned to their feral state.

The color of the energy generated by the crystals of the Ark was supposed to be green. Green like Jyn’s eyes. Cassian almost expected that she too would start emitting deadly energy soon.

Holding his hands placatingly in front of him and taking a step back, he proceeded to speak again. It was wrong to ask her, but at this point, there was nothing he could say that would calm her anymore.

“Jyn, the Nazis have discovered Tanis. Your father’s obsession. But they need the headpiece to find the Ark. Do you still have it?” He hoped she would recognize the worries in his voice, not the mix of anticipation and greed he normally had when speaking about these sort of things.

Jyn snorted again and continued to clean up the tables. “Maybe.”

“Jyn, I need it. Your father would not have wanted it to fall into the hands of the Nazis and they’re looking for it. Please,” he added with vigor, but he should have known better. Jyn always thought highly of her abilities to defend herself. It wasn’t unwarranted, but he feared her perseverance would get her in danger this time.

“How much?” She asked, still focused on her task.

“Three thousand dollars.”

She shook her head. “Not enough.”

“Jyn, I can give you more once we’re back in the States. Please, let me help you, bring you back. Marcus misses you and what else keeps you here?” Time could heal a lot of wounds, but he was honest when he said he did not want her to stay in Patan, surrounded by all sorts of criminals.

“You don’t get to play the gallant knight, Cassian. Not anymore,” she spoke with venom in her voice. “I don’t like this place, but it’s better than nothing. Three thousand isn’t enough. If I go back, I want to be independent. Bodhi’s gonna go to flight training school.”

He froze. “Bodhi?” Had she found another man? A better man? He felt as she had buried him under several layers of snow.

Another cold laugh was the vanguard of her reply. “Worried, Cassian?” Her eyes shone bright, but it was a cruel way, so different from the gentleness she used to display for him. “My father liked to pick up strays. Although one must admit his choice improved over the years. He found Bodhi on an airfield in Lahore. A nervous, but kind young man. You know what a good heart he had.” Once again her face and voice turned bitter. “Or maybe not.”

Cassian tried to digest that new revelation. So Galen had found a replacement for him. It was supposed to hurt, but who could blame him? He always needed an assistant and while Jyn had some interests in this kind of business, she never had the ardor Cassian or Lyra had possessed.

“When we came here, he bought the bar with our last money. Thought it would be a good mix between base camp and information acquisition. I always had a hand for… rougher fellows.”

Cassian nodded sadly. “Jyn, I’ll take both of you back. I’ll pay you handsomely. The government is very invested in this case. Please.”

She studied him for a moment, having finished cleaning up. Jyn had never been one to accept help, even if she needed it. It was clear that she thought he would use this as some kind of maneuver to get back into her favor, maybe even reestablish the relationship. He dreamed of it, yes, but the way she looked at him, it was never gonna happen.

“Come back tomorrow,” she said, and another snarky smile lay on her lips.

“Why tomorrow?” Was she playing games? Punishing him?

“Because I said so.” Without another word, she turned around and went up the stairs behind the bar, apparently to go to bed.

Cassian stood in the door for a long time. He rummaged through his pocket, digging out the old photograph of Jyn, Galen and him from her eighteenth birthday. He turned it around in his hands. A short time ago, it all had looked so bright. Now Galen was dead and Jyn was more likely to strangle than to kiss him.

The age-old question “Why did all this happen?” went through his mind, as he stepped through the door in the bitter cold night and looked at the stars, bright and clear in the dark sky.

Of course, they did not answer.

* * *

 

For a moment, he had considered sleeping in the bar, but his fear that Jyn might murder him in his sleep had dissuaded him. Other housings didn’t seem to be an option and going from door to door wasn’t one either. No one here would understand him and even if, the risk of a robbery was far too high.

Cassian was halfway back to Lin Su’s car, which would protect him at least from the snow and the wind, when he heard a young voice calling for him with what sounded like some sort of British accent. When he turned around, a young man sprinted towards him.

Cassian stopped his movements and studied the new arrival. The man was perhaps his age with the chiseled features of an Indian or Pakistani. A rather well-kept beard gave his face something majestic, but his eyes were kind and it seemed like a perpetual smile was engraved on his features.

He had no idea who this man might be, but he was confident he wasn’t a crook. And even if, he could take him. With ease.

Cassian didn’t miss that the man studied him too. “Are you Cassian?” was his first question and the Mexican instantly realized that this must be Bodhi.

That meant several things: Jyn or Galen hadn’t forgotten him. They had talked about him enough for Bodhi to identify him. Based on the cheery welcome Bodhi gave him, not all of it was bad. And if Bodhi seemed to like him, it could work in his favor. A little bit temptation - hadn’t Jyn mentioned something about pilot school? - and he just might help him persuade Jyn to leave. And maybe even more.

What he did not expect was getting punched in the face again.

Granted, Bodhi did not punch as hard as Jyn, but a tired and emotionally stricken Cassian hit the ground again nevertheless. After two seconds, his head cleared, and he considered retaliation. Bodhi still stood over him, to equal parts combative and shocked about himself.

“That’s for making my sister cry!” he said, his voice not really firm, but clearly angry.

Cassian shook his head to make the stars disappear and slowly stood up again, his hands raised to defend himself and, once again, placate another person. And he had been worried about the crooks here…

“She cried?” he asked, finally understanding what the man had said. It was strange that Jyn’s emotional response was so firm, but not entirely unwelcome and certainly understandable. Once again, he felt like scum and not because he had tested the low quality of the local streets with his clothes.

Bodhi was clearly uncomfortable, but something in Cassian’s tired face must have appealed to the Pakistani’s gentleness and he replied in a sad cadence. “Yes. Not as often as at the beginning and only when she thinks I’m not around. She never told me what exactly you did and neither did Galen. But I swear to you, whatever it was, if you are here to bring her pain again…”

It was rather clear that Bodhi was no fighter and him not finishing the sentence was more of a cluelessness than a well-thought out threat.

Cassian wasn’t really in the mood to explain the detailed events to an unfamiliar man in the cold and windy streets of Patan, but if he wanted Bodhi on his side, he had to tell him at least a bit.

“Listen, I never meant to hurt her. And… It was no easy decision and it was certainly not made without reason, believe me. I…” But once again, he couldn’t find the words. At least nothing that would make him look like anything different than that what he was.

A coward.

Bodhi just studied him for half a minute, before he nodded slowly. “Okay.” He tilted his head. “You have the face of a friend. And Galen said some good things about you. Is it true you travel around the world?” An eager glimmer had replaced the fury in Bodhi’s eyes. Excellent.

“Yes, indeed.” Why else would he be here?

“That’s amazing! Do you fly a lot? I always wanted to fly, but they never let me. I had no money, of course, and there are no opportunities here, but Jyn promised me I would some day.” The words almost came far too quickly out of his mouth, but Cassian had his leverage point.

“Yes, I do. As a matter of fact, I wanted to invite you and Jyn to join me. Head back to the United States, back to Galen’s university. But I need her help first.” The bribery was rather unimaginative, but Cassian was tired in more way than one.

Bodhi nodded. “And I’d wager your first talk did not go too well.”

Cassian rubbed his jaw. “You’d be correct.”

Bodhi laughed a bit, and his excitement was palpable. “You know Jyn, she’s got her heart on her sleeve. I’ll talk to her, you come back tomorrow and we’ll find a solution.” He kicked away some of the snow, shuddering in disgust. “We both hate it here, but we needed money to get away. I’m sure once her initial anger is gone, we’ll work something out. You have a place to stay?”

 _More or less_ , Cassian thought darkly, but he nodded. Bodhi’s grin lit up again. It was infectious.

“Great! See you tomorrow then?” With another huge smile, he clapped Cassian’s shoulder and the Mexican replied with a slightly forced smile of his own.

“Great!” Bodhi said once more and turned around to hasten towards the bar. After a few steps, he turned around again and added almost thoughtfully. “She still likes you. Wouldn’t even look at another guy. She’ll come around.” With a validating nod, he was gone.

He may not have expected to meet Bodhi Rook here, but he couldn’t help but like the young man. So when Cassian returned to his car and prepared himself for an uncomfortable night, his hopes for the morning were slightly higher than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, poor Cassian. I guess?
> 
> But don't worry, he'll have a chance to redeem himself soon. Next week, we'll see the conclusion of this chapter! I don't want to spoil it, but those of you familiar with the movie know what's to come. At least some of it! ;)
> 
> As always, trivia and explanations for this chapter can be found [here](https://thenewleeland.tumblr.com/post/161903864591/rotla-chapter-five-authors-notes)!


	6. Nepal, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a group of Nazi henchmen led by the sadistic Arnold Toht interrogate Jyn about the headpiece, Cassian may get a chance to redeem himself. If he survives...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without further ado, here is Part II of the Nepal arc of the story.
> 
> Once again, special thanks to [Kobo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kobo/pseuds/Kobo) for being the most awesome beta in the world! :)

* * *

 

Immediately after she heard the door close, Jyn hurried back to the bar. Sleep was out of question right now and would be for a few more hours at least.

How dare he to come back after all these months and say nothing but “I’m sorry”? Granted, she would have punched him even if he brought back her parents and offered a way to travel back in time and undo all events that had transpired since that fateful evening. Jyn Erso wasn’t one to forgive easily. Especially not cowardly ex-boyfriends.

But still, she couldn’t deny that she had been delighted to see him again. Alive and unhurt. As much as she had wanted to hate him in the last months, she couldn’t. Jyn was disgusted at being so weak, so emotional and so clingy. After her mother’s death, she had sworn to herself never to be dependent on a person even more. Not even her father.

Then, fate had sent her Cassian and she almost started believing some world-steering force had given him to her as some sort of compensation for taking her mother away from her. Until he too had proven to be a disappointment.

Still, it hurt. Without Cassian, it felt like something had left her side. Not a hand or a leg, but something else. Would she have been more of a feely person, she would have called it: joie de vivre.

But she was Jyn Erso. And so, Jyn Erso had done what she did best: ignored the feelings as much as possible and tried to distract herself. It hadn’t worked very well.

She already knew what her decision would be. She would take the money and leave this wretched place. Yes, her father’s body might be still be up there in the mountains, but she saw no possibility to recover it. Maybe it was for the best.

The money would give Bodhi an opportunity he deserved. In the weeks after Galen’s death, he had proven and repaid the trust her late father had in him. It would have been easy to take over the bar and betray Jyn in many disgusting ways. After all, despite being a Pakistani, he was way more familiar to the local customers than a tiny white girl, daughter of a professor.

But sweet, nice Bodhi had made it very clear who was in charge. One evening, a group of three thugs had tried to test their resolve. Jyn had broken the arms of two of them and Bodhi had shown what good of a student he was and managed to overtake the third when he tried to attack Jyn from behind.

There were no more problems after that.

The piece Cassian wanted was very dear to her. After all, her mother had given it to her shortly before succumbing to her illness.

It was beautiful, golden, but not too heavy, with a red jewel in the middle and a lot of different epigraphs her father could have deciphered easily. Galen had found it on a dig in the Middle East and presented it to Lyra as a symbol of his love for her after she had claimed in one fight, archaeology was more important to him than his wife.

Galen had many mistakes, but this wasn’t true.

Thinking of her parents and their happiness was tough, especially after facing Cassian again and thinking about times she would have imagined a family for herself. It had been childish perhaps.

She almost didn’t realize the door opening, but when she did, she immediately hid the medaillon under some logs lying on the table before wearily turning towards the entrance. Perhaps some drunk returning for some extra booze. Normally, the locals knew to behave, but one or two travellers always went astray.

“Good evening, Fräulein.” A German-accented voice said and, finally, her full attention was on the group of men who sauntered into the bar.

No, these weren’t normal customers.

The man who had spoken wore a hat and a trench coat made of leather. A pair of spectacles made his eyes look bigger. His face was clean-shaven, but that only amplified the impressions he made. He looked like a pure sadist. The textbook example of a person who parents warned their kids not to talk to.

Flanking him were similarly dressed men: One of them, most likely another German, carried a machine gun too. The other two were a ratty-looking Nepalese and a tall Mongolian who had to duck his head when passing through the door. These were the rooks Cassian had warned her about, no doubt. A Nazi and his henchmen.

For a moment, she regretted sending Cassian away. For all his flaws, he was a damn good fighter. Not as good as Jyn, of course, but she was tired, a bit drunk and outnumbered. Not to talk about outgunned. The only pistol she owned was in her bedroom. She would never get that far.

“The bar is closed,” she tried, but not believing for one second it would work.

“We… We are… not thirsty,” the man replied, interrupting himself with a kind of panting laughter that only reinforced his frightening and slightly deranged appearance. He approached the bar, his goons in tow.

Jyn decided to face them head on. Maybe they would underestimate her. “What do you want?”

“The same thing your friend, Doctor Andor, wanted. Surely he told you there would be other interested parties?” The man came closer while speaking.

Jyn pretended not be interested and grabbed a cigarette from her pocket, lighting it as the German came to a standstill several feet away from her. She didn’t smoke a lot, but it was good to overplay her nervousness. With the cigarette between her teeth, she replied. “Must have slipped his mind.”

“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Arnold Toht. And Mister Andor is a… nefarious man.” Jyn almost laughed. _Yeah, you’re sure one to talk, pal._

“I hope for your sake he has not yet acquired it?” The threat in his words was clear, even the otherwise oblivious Bodhi would have realized it.

“Why? Are you willing to offer more?” She asked provokingly.

Toht came even closer, his voice now near to a whisper. “Oh, almost certainly. Do you still have it?” He sounded optimistic, while his goons watched the scene, ready to spring into action.

Too bad Jyn ruined his creepy appearance by blowing some cigarette smoke in his face, which made Toht cough and blink in discomfort.

Calmly, Jyn replied with a simple “No,” before resolving the tension by walking away from Toht and around the bar while continuing to speak. “But I know where it is.” Something told her, these men wouldn’t take no for an answer and she needed time to respond.

Maybe, some alcohol could calm them down. Toht was rather focused, but the rest of his men seemed to have considerably lower work ethic. Maybe, she could sway them in her favor. “Hey, how ‘bout a drink for you and your men?” she suggested cheerily.

The Nepalese was interested and went to the bar. Toht on the other hand moved towards the roaring fireplace. “Your fire is dying here. Why don’t you tell me where the piece is right now?” Toht said, kneeling by the fireplace and poking the embers with a fire-pork.

Back to the tough behavior then. “Listen, Herr Mac,” she said, voice thick with disdain and anger, “I don’t know what kind of people you’re used to dealing with, but nobody tells me what to do in my place.”

“Fräulein Erso,” there was the panting laugh again, “let me show you what I am used too.” Now his voice had gotten threatening. “Nick!” he bellowed and Jyn felt strong, hairy arms grabbing her from behind.

Perhaps it was the weariness from the long day. Perhaps it was from the shock of seeing Cassian again. Perhaps the alcohol had done its trick on Jyn, but she did not realize that the tall Mongolian had not-so-sneakily moved behind her.

Jyn Erso was still Jyn Erso though and she gave him a hell of a fight. The man had made the mistake of grabbing her waist, leaving her arms and legs free. She kicked his shin and landed two punches on his face, but both lacked the force to cause serious pain or injury. The Mongolian just grunted, picked her up like she was nothing and threw her over the bar.

“Get your lousy hands off me!”

The Nepalese came to his assistance and despite her winding like a snake and dealing out punches, they managed to subdue her quickly. From behind, the Mongolian kept her neck and arms in a iron grip while his Nepalese colleague stood on her foot.

Toht did not watch the fight, but turned around now, the glowing and hot fire pork in his hand. A look at his face immediately told what the German intended to do.

Jyn was no coward or scared of pain, but this man seemed to be ready for everything. Even worse, Bodhi was due to come home any minute. She trembled while thinking what these men would do to him. So despite all her defiance, her voice sounded defeated when she spoke again.

“Wait a minute. Wait. I can be reasonable.” Part of her bangs blocked her left eye, but she could still see the smile on the man’s face. This was not the first time he had done it. Quite the opposite. He clearly enjoyed it. A pure sadist.

“That time is past,” he replied, not trying to hide the gratification in his voice. Slowly, he stepped closer, the fire pork still steaming. The Nepalese and the Mongolian seemed rather cheerful too. Apparently, torturing women turned them on.

Desperate, Jyn made a last attempt and she hated herself for how weak and cowering her voice sounded. “I’ll tell you everything.”

Almost like a perverse lover, Toht stopped shortly before her face, invading her personal space and whispered softly and menacing. “Yes, I know you will.” Sweat ran down his face, but he made a face like a child at Christmas morning as he brought the glowing end of the pork closer and closer to Jyn’s eyes. The hideous smell of burning iron nearly overwhelmed her. _Maybe I’ll vomit all over him at least_ , Jyn thought as she closed her eyes and braced herself for the pain.

* * *

 

Neither Toht nor Jyn or any of the goons had realized that shortly after the Nazi squad had entered the bar, Bodhi had arrived at the door, still giddily happy about leaving this godforsaken place soon. His elation came to an end when he heard voices inside. He didn’t dare to peak and although he couldn’t make out what they were saying, it didn’t sound good for Jyn.

Now, Bodhi Rook was no coward, even though he might have thought about himself like that. Jyn had given him some lessons in unarmed combat and despite being shy and rather preferring to avoid such conflicts, he had picked up a trick or two.

Carefully leaning around the corner, he considered going in through the second entrance, which may not be locked. From there, he could make it to the bedrooms undetected, grab Jyn’s hidden gun and force the men to leave. He had no idea how to shoot, but Jyn had always said conviction could move mountains.

Bodhi was scared as hell, but the Ersos had given him everything. Granted, there were days where he thought being stranded here was even worse than in Lahore. But both of them had treated him like an equal from the moment they met him. Galen had given him an education, taught him to read and write, encouraged his dreams. Jyn was like a sister to him, had shown him how to defend himself. He would rather die than leave them behind.

His plans all came apart when he rounded the corner and spotted a huge Sherpa who lived here guarding the door. For a moment, he thought the man could aid them. But then he recalled that he was known for being very pugnacious and would do everything for a few glasses of liquor. No doubt, he had been bought by the men who were threatening Jyn.

That left him with only one remaining option.

As fast as he could, Bodhi Rook run through the deep snow back to the street he had seen Cassian walk down.

* * *

 

Lin Su’s car was far from being warm and comfortable, but Cassian had dealt with worse circumstances. However, sleep did not find him. Jyn dominated his thoughts. Without sleeping, he dreamt about her smile, her hair, her laughter, the way she would tease him whenever she did something tempting while her father was around.

Caught up in a rather fond memory involving Jyn, him and chocolate cream, He didn't notice Bodhi approaching until Jyn’s adopted brother began hammering against the car window. Cassian was completely taken by surprise, jumping in his seat and hitting the low top of the car.

For a moment, he wanted to ram the door into the Pakistani's face.

That was until he saw Bodhi’s eyes alight with panic. Without hesitation, he opened the door, immediately being flooded by Bodhi hastily talking.

“There are men inside the bar! They want something from Jyn. Another one is standing guard outside. We have to help her!”

All thought of sleep and chocolate was forgotten. Jyn was in trouble! His brain focused on the problem at hand without delay. He had to help her.

It was his fault. The only other interested party were the Nazis. Apparently, they had found Galen’s last location just as quick as him. Maybe they even followed him. Either way, he was responsible.

Grabbing his whip and revolver, he jumped out of the car, tearing down the street. Bodhi followed him, but at the corner of the bar, Cassian stopped and turned around. The Pakistani was in no condition to fight, trembling all over. He admired his devotion, but if this was a Nazi team, Bodhi would be one more person he had to protect. Together with Jyn, he could face a lot of people. Another soft target could prove fatal.

Nevertheless, he didn’t have the heart to tell him that. “Bodhi, I know you want to help, but leave it to me.” The man’s face sank instantly.

Grabbing his shoulders and shaking him until he met his eyes, Cassian continued. “Go back to my car and bring it here. We might need a quick escape. Can you do that for me?”

It was a rather menial task, but Bodhi’s eyes lit up and he nodded. Cassian clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man. Now go.”

Bodhi turned around, but before sprinting away, he hesitated for a moment. “Don’t let them hurt her.” His face was full of despair and fear and Cassian spoke solemnly, without any form of exaggeration. “I won’t allow it.”

Bodhi nodded again and was gone a second later.

Taking a deep breath, Cassian unholstered his pistol, grabbed his whip and prepared to open the door. He may not have been ready for what was behind it, but he knew one thing for sure.

For Jyn, he would face it without a moment of hesitation.

* * *

 

A lot of things could be said about GeStaPo Major Arnold Toht. Not many pleasant things.

But he sure loved his job.

The sheer joy in his eyes as he prepared to burn Jyn with the fire poke was unequalled to everything else Jyn had seen in her life before and the thought that it might just be the last thing she would see made her sick.

That was until a loud snap echoed throughout the room. Within a blink of an eye, the end of a leather whip coiled itself around the fire poke and with one pull, the metal was hurled out of the German’s hand and crashed against the bar’s wooden wall.

Where it immediately started to burn the old curtains.

Toht, now a lot less happy, spun around, keeping his hold on Jyn and placing her between himself and the new arrival.

Cassian Andor. He looked tired, dirty, unshaven and like the most beautiful man she had ever seen. In his left hand, he held a pistol, pointing it at her captors, while his right was curled around his trademark whip.

“Let her go,” he demanded in a serious tone.

For a moment, Toht and his goons exchanged nervous glances. Then the characteristic sound of a machine gun being loaded appeared from somewhere to the left. The other German had hidden himself and tried to surprise Cassian.

The roaring fire helped the Mexican, as it depicted the man’s enlarged shadow on the wall behind him. So when he left his cover, Cassian had already shot in his direction, forcing him to stay behind the corner. His gun went off, and all hell broke loose.

Sensing her opportunity, Jyn spun around, pushed Toht away and hurried to find a place to hide. Granted, close combat was her specialty, but it was madness to try and take out four men armed with guns. No, she would wait for a chance to hit them hard.

Cassian in the meantime hurried behind another corner, followed by the machine gun firing German. A well-aimed shot at the desk between them destroyed the glasses of liquor in front of the German as he aimed to kill the Mexican, forcing him to take cover as well.

At the other end of the building, the Nepalese threw over the table Jyn had left the headpiece on, smashing some more bottles in the process, before cowering behind it.

While Cassian was boxed in, the Mongolian had remained behind the bar and now threw the Nepalese another machine gun. Jyn hid behind both men, crouching in the L-shaped edge of the bar. Toht and the other German were further up the bar, all four firing at Cassian.

Just before her former boyfriend decided to leave his cover to fire, the Nepalese’s gun jammed. Cassian’s shot missed all of the men, but instead hit the fireplace, throwing several burning logs on the ground. The spilled alcohol between the fireplace and the table the Nepalese had thrown over ignited in an instant. The rough wool clothes of the man caught fire immediately and, wildly screaming, he left his cover.

A well-aimed shot from Cassian hit him right in the forehead. Blood splashed from the wound and the man fell over, dead before he hit the ground. His face, completely covered with blood, landed just next to Jyn

It was a rather gruesome sight and although Jyn prided herself in having a pretty tough stomach, it wasn’t something she was fond off.

But it was an opportunity. Grabbing one of the partly burning logs, she maneuvered herself behind the Mongolian, who fired at Cassian with a Mauser pistol. A ricochet hit the whisky barrel directly above her, bathing Jyn in alcohol. Taking another gulp for good measure - it would have been a shame to let it all go to waste - she continued with her maneuver.

The German’s machine gun fire kept Cassian nailed to his corner next to the second exit - through which the Giant Sherpa bursted in now, grabbing Cassian’s gun holding arm and slamming him against the wall. Toht and his countryman stopped firing, their eyes fixed on the fight.

Jyn made the best of it and slammed the log hard on the Mongolian’s skull from behind. The big man tumbled for a moment before crashing to the ground.

 _Size matters not_ , she thought. Big men went down just as easy as smaller ones.

Her victory was short-lived, as the Sherpa had grabbed Cassian now just as easily as the Mongolian had Jyn earlier and threw him against the bar and then on it, holding him down.

Toht now decided to contribute something to the ongoing mayhem, grabbing a small burning twig, which he used to set the bar on fire, sporting a half sadistic, half childish smile. Dozens of bullets had missed human flesh, but destroyed quite a lot of bottles, whose highly flammable content now covered the wooden surface.

Like some sort of domino game, the flames raced down the bar, towards where Cassian was still being pressed on face first.

Cassian had managed to keep his gun in his left hand, but he could not use it, as the Sherpa had pinned it away from him. Sensing the nearing danger, he established eye contact with Jyn.

Despite her mixed feelings, there was no way in hell she wouldn’t help him. But standing up would have made her a target for Toth and his companion. The pistol of the Mongolian had suffered some damage while falling down and she desperately worked to fix it.

She had always been a quick thinker and so she handed him one of the still intact whiskey bottles. Using a moment of distraction as the Sherpa spotted the rapidly approaching flames with fear in his eyes, Cassian slammed the bottle against this man’s face, pushing him off the bar just as the flames reached the place he had been a second before.

Still, the Sherpa was much stronger than the Mexican. Holding the gun-wielding arm away from him, the Nepalese grabbed Cassian’s throat, choking him and forcing him down on a nearby table.

“Shoot them,” Toht spoke with glee in his voice, addressing the machine gun equipped German. “Shoot them both.”

As the German chambered another magazine into his gun, Cassian and the Sherpa exchanged a quick look.

Then, in an action of unseen coordination, the Mongolian pushed Cassian’s arm with the gun towards their would be murderer. As soon as he was in position, the Mexican squeezed the trigger three times.

The bullets him the German man in the face, neck and chest and he tumbled to the ground, dead or mortally wounded.

With that, the armistice ended, and the Sherpa grunted, pushing Cassian against the wall.

Toht hurried away from his dead companion, seeking cover behind the table the ratty Nepalese had used earlier.

And then, his little eyes spotted the real reason why he was here. The headpiece was lying amidst some burning logs, thrown to the ground as the table had been moved to serve as auxiliary breastwork.

With greedy fingers, Toht reached for it, grabbing it and pressing it into the palm of his hand.

Unfortunately, he had forgotten that the metal piece had lain surrounded by flaming logs the entire time. Seething fiery pain raced through his nerves as the glowing metal pressed against his flesh, burning the pink skin instantly.

With a terrifying scream, Toht stood up, dropping the seething hot medallion and - abandoning everything else - run past the fighting Cassian and the Sherpa, straight for a glass window. Completely ignoring the fact that the window frame was on fire, he burst through it, desperate to find some easement for his pain.

He did miss the irony that in the end, it wasn’t his intended victim who would walk away from the bar with severe and permanent burn injuries, but him.

Cassian’s brawl with the Sherpa in the meantime had brought both men to the ground and dangerously close to the fireplace. Fighting for his life, Cassian pushed the man further back and the Nepalese’s arms caught fire when he touched a burning piece of wood. With his other hand, he pushed the Mexican back, swung to his feet and tried to hit him with two haymakers, not caring if he used the burning or the normal arm.

Cassian dodged both and with admirable precision, landed two punches on the man’s nose, bloodying him. The Sherpa stumbled back and sensing his opportunity, Cassian grabbed a nearby chair, smashing it on the man’s head who went to the ground, unmoving.

Outside, a whining Toht finally realized that the almost omnipresent snow could offer some ease for his burn injuries and buried his hurting right hand into the white mass on the ground, whimpering like a rat.

Profoundly tired and worried about Jyn, whom he had lost from his sight, Cassian spun around.

Only to be faced with the Mongolian, who had recovered from Jyn’s hit and was now aiming at the Mexican’s chest with a pistol.

He could do nothing. The distance was too short to evade the shot and too big to attack and reach him before he could squeeze the trigger.

Although he thought he would die in this moment, the only thing in his mind was: _Where’s Jyn? Wasn’t she behind the bar too?_

Then, a shot rang out.

Cassian waited for the impact, for the pain and the shock.

But nothing hit him.

Instead, the Mongolian went limp. His arms with the gun dropped, his head shifted to his shoulder. Blood poured out of his mouth and he collapsed.

Revealing Jyn, who had reassembled the Mauser just in time.

Cassian couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear.

“My medaillon,” Jyn screamed, putting the gun in her belt and rushing to the table. Unlike Toht, she showed common sense. Grabbing a handkerchief from the ground, she reached for the still seething piece and dragged it from the flames.

Cassian pulled her arm after a piece of burning wood crushed down far too close to them and, with her arm linked with his, he dragged her through the flaming inferno that was once her bar.

Outside, she threw the medallion in the snow, before both turned around and watched the burning ruin that had once been a crowded bar.

“Well, Cassian,” Jyn shouted over the stormy wind the funneled through the street, “you sure know how to show a lady a good time.”

Cassian didn’t know what to reply right now and settled for an indistinct. “Boy, you’re something.”

“Yeah?” Jyn screamed back, retrieving the medallion from the ground. “Until you give me my money, you’re gonna get more than you bargained for. I’m your goddamned partner!” Underlining her words, she held the headpiece in front of his face.

Further discussion stopped when Lin Su’s car turned around the corner, coming to a screeching halt right before Cassian. Immediately, Bodhi sprung out, studying the inferno for only the shortest moment before heading to Jyn and embracing her in a hug. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice thick with worry.

Jyn seemed to relax immediately, patting his back softly and murmuring “I’m fine, Bodhi.”

Cassian would have lied if he said he wasn’t jealous.

They ended the hug, both scrutinizing the bar. “What are we gonna do now?” he asked her, sounding a bit lost.

Jyn wasn’t stopped for a second. “We’ll join this weirdo on his little mission. I gather you’ve already met Cassian?”

Bodhi nodded sheepishly.

Before the Pakistani could spill some more details, Cassian interjected. “I suggest we head back to Kathmandu this instant. Or that creep will return with more men.”

Jyn nodded and with one last glance at the bar, followed him to his car, thankfully refraining from commenting on it.

Bodhi squeezed himself on the backseat, while Jyn joined Cassian in the front. Starting the motor, they slowly made their way into the darkness, leaving Patan and the still burning bar behind them.

* * *

 

The trip back was even more straining than the way to Patan. It was deepest night and Cassian didn’t trust the brakes of the car one bit. It would have been quite embarrassing to survive a bar fight involving machine guns and then perish driving down a cliff. The snow still covered the roads, his tracks long since covered by freshly fallen whiteness.

Bodhi had fallen asleep in the backseat, leaving Jyn and Cassian to live through some sort of uncomfortable silence. Despite all the action, Cassian felt like he could fall asleep any minute, so he finally broke and started talking.

“Thanks for saving my life back there.”

Jyn shrugged. “You did it first.”

“Yes, but you didn’t have too. I mean, I would have had to fight them for the piece either way. But you. You could have just let him shoot me, shoot him and escape yourself."

Her head spun around, fixing him with an evil glare. “Do you think so little of me?” Her voice was poison again and if he could have, he would have flinched back.

“No, Jyn. Of course not. It’s just… Forgive me. I shouldn’t have said such a thing.” Great, he made it worse again. _Brilliant performance, Andor._

“I may despise you for what you did to me and my father, but that doesn’t mean I would just watch while you’re being killed.” Her voice had lost its fierceness and it sounded almost afraid now.

What she said next surprised him even more.

“Cassian, I want the truth now. Why did you leave?”

He wanted to remain silent again. But then he recalled how close they both were to death just a few hours ago and that it might still come for them in the near future. The Nazis wouldn’t give up and she would stay with him until she had her money.

She deserved to know. He would never be able to make his peace with Galen now, but at least he could be honest with his daughter.

And, as if he needed any more conviction, she looked at him again. For once, her eyes weren’t angry, but sensitive, open and hurt.

“I was afraid,” he begun, and his voice was rough with emotions. “Afraid he would say no and you would leave my life. Afraid that he would suspect I only befriended you to eventually get his position. That I wanted to take his Stardust away. I’m just an orphan from Mexico after all. Not worthy of you.” He gulped heavily.

“You know he wouldn’t have thought that. For heaven’s sake, the first time we went out, he even conspired with Marcus to get us a table at the little Italian restaurant. My father was more into our relationship than either of us sometime,” she added with a little laugh.

And, suddenly, both were smiling at each other again.

“I know, Jyn,” he said, grabbing her hand with his right one. Surprisingly, she allowed him to. “But… I don’t know. I was paralyzed. I just thought I’d lose it all and I couldn’t do it. I just thought a few days would help me to calm down. To make things right. When I came back, I was determined to do it, I swear on my mother’s grave. But when I arrived at your house and found Marcus drinking on the front porch… My heart shattered.”

Neither of them would speak that way under normal circumstances. But once he had begun, he couldn’t stop himself. All the lonely nights full of self-hate, doubts and even tears demanded from him to carry on and bare his soul to her. Maybe she would forgive him one day if he would be honest.

She squeezed his hand. “I would have waited for you. Yes, I would have. Of course I was furious when Marcus told me you left, but I would have waited for you. Given you a real hard time once you came back. But then Krennić appeared on our door that one night…”

Cassian nearly crashed the car as he snapped around, his face marred with pure fury.

“Krennić?”

Jyn nodded sadly. “Yes. I was in my room when he came, but I heard what he said. Something about finding that bloody Ark together. Fulfill my mother’s dream. He had found some people who would ‘deal with possible obstacles’. But father refused to join him and give him the piece. Krennić cursed him, said he would come back and take it. The next morning, we left Bedford. Not even Marcus knew.”

Her eyes watered, but he ignored it. Krennić. Again, the man had ruined his life.

No. This was ten times worse than some stolen thesis or a hijacked expedition. No, a hundred times worse. A thousand times worse. He had stolen his future.

Cassian swore the next time he met Ognjen Krennić, he would kill him.

“We went to India first, than Lahore and Patan. He said Krennić would search for us all over the world and this would be our best chance to hide for some time.” Her hand clutched his now.

“I did not want to leave you. Not without telling you. But I couldn’t let my father go alone, he would be lost. And I didn’t know if you would ever come back.” Her voice broke now, all restraint gone.

Cassian stopped the car, moving over to the side of the road facing the mountain. Despite the difficulties the tight car brought with it, they managed to embrace, her teary face buried in his shoulder like they had did a few times in the past when the memory of her mother overwhelmed her.

Neither of them knew how long they stayed that way, Jyn clinging to him and Cassian rubbing circles on her back and whispering calming words into her ear while lightly running his hand through her hair. It always calmed her down.

When they broke the embrace, the looked at each other again. The anger was gone and although Cassian knew they would have still a road to go down, his heart soared with hope that it just might work out despite the past two years.

* * *

 

“We’re really flying. We’re really going to fly, Jyn,” Bodhi squealed excitedly as the trio made their way to the waiting plane across the tarmac in Kathmandu. Jyn and Cassian exchanged a happy look as they watched Bodhi sprint ahead of them, marvelling at the rusty old bird that would (hopefully) take them to Delhi, where they would catch the next flight to Egypt.

They had arrived back in the capital shortly after dawn, spending the rest of the way in a much more comfortable silence, a snoring Bodhi dreaming on the backseat.

Lin Su was already waiting for them and had managed to acquire three tickets for the next plane in no time. Cassian showered the Chinese man with praise, enskied the car and its noble owner and even bowed before him.

Lin Su had never looked so happy in his life as he bowed too. It had something comical, but when they had parted ways just minutes before - Lin Su would travel back to Shanghai later that day - the smile was still engraved on his face and he told them he would be honored to help them should the need arise. Cassian in turn invited him to visit him in Bedford and promised to help his nephew should he ever need it.

“We should keep an eye on him,” Jyn said with a smile, referring to Bodhi who had already jumped up the ramp and through the doors of the plane. “Before he begs them to be allowed into the cockpit.” Cassian laughed and put an arm around her, hesitating just for a moment before her slight smile signaled that she was ok with it.

Bodhi was indeed very excited, but he had sat down on a seat, giddily waiting for the rest of the passengers to board. Jyn and Cassian took two seats directly behind him, as the Pakistani had chosen the only single one. Cassian wasn’t sure if this was just a coincidence, but when he established eye contact for a second, he could have sworn Bodhi winked at him.

Once they were seated, Jyn’s hand found his again, her green eyes staring at him. “We’ll have to talk,” she said simply, although the following conversation would be anything but.

Feeling relief rising in his chest nevertheless, Cassian nodded. “I could think of no better way to spend our flight.”

Bodhi briefly turned around and just shook his head as the two of them gazed at each other from point blank range, seemingly trying to make up for the last months they had been separated.

But that was none of his business. If anything, he was elated that Jyn was showing signs of happiness again. And they were going to fly now!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, trivia and explanations for this chapter can be found [here](https://thenewleeland.tumblr.com/post/162174315791/rotla-chapter-six-authors-notes)! If the Jyn/Cassian background story remained a bit unclear, you can find a bit more detailed and cohesive explanation there too!
> 
> In the next chapter, we'll finally arrive in Egypt, will find out what Tarkin and Krennić have been up to in the meantime and meet yet another important character. I'm not entirely sure when it will be published. It's still WIP. Maybe I'll split it up though if you'd prefer regular updates.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Cairo, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassian, Jyn and Bodhi arrive in Cairo and meet an old friend. But Tarkin and Krennić know that they are in Egypt...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rogues of the Lost Ark returns after a month of hiatus. I'm truly sorry, but real-life took its toll. Updates will be a bit more sporadic in the following weeks, but I'm freshly motivated!
> 
> This is the first chapter of the Cairo/Egypt arc that will be the main part of the story!
> 
> Once again, special thanks to [Kobo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kobo/pseuds/Kobo) for being the most awesome beta in the world! :)

* * *

 

The blistering heat of the Egyptian desert had its effect on every man, even Ognjen Krennić. He was simply better at hiding it.

Tarkin did not promise too much when he said that their project would be supplied with everything they needed. The excavation site was larger than the walled interior of Dubrovnik. The thought was worth another condescending smile. Yes, Tanis had been a fairly large city. But the amount of work and effort the Germans had put in was basically a monument to their own inordinacy.

Perhaps two dozen trucks and other vehicles swirled up the dusty sand, covering hundreds of Arab workers in a thin layer that instantly mixed with the sweat pouring down their faces. Every ten meters, an armed German soldier stood, monitoring their work and screaming every time he found something was “not in order”.

Krennić huffed. As if those idiots had any idea on how to conduct archaeology.

In the middle stood Tarkin, calm and collected, hands folded behind his back, watching the excavation with an icy glare that could compete with the Egyptian heat. The man was boisterous, no doubt, but not completely incompetent.

Although the last news suggested a different opinion.

The Oberst’s goons he had sent to Nepal had returned earlier this morning. Or rather, that despicable Gestapo snitch Toht. The other was dead, killed by no one else than Cassian Andor.

Andor. Naturally.

Krennić regarded the Mexican with a mix of reluctant respect and condescension. The young man was driven, persistent and had good instincts. In a few years, he might be a troublesome competitor if not taken care of.

More important than that, the headpiece was still around, apparently in the possession of a very much alive Jyn Erso. They hadn’t found out about Galen, but it was safe to say his old friend still lay somewhere in the Himalayas, buried under tons of snow. A fitting tomb for an archaeologist, Krennić thought darkly.

As predicted, Andor had made short work of Tarkin’s C-class ruffians, gathered the headpiece and Jyn before making his way to Egypt. At least Tarkin’s spy net was working, as they had been informed that Andor, Jyn and a Pakistani man somehow involved with Galen’s daughter would arrive today by plane.

A confrontation was not really necessary, because while failing miserably on all other accounts, Toht’s incredible stupidity displayed by trying to grab a blistering piece of metal had one advantage: A rather accurate representation of the headpiece had been forever imprinted on the palm of his right hand.

It had been a pleasure forcing Toht to sit down for two hours, holding up his hand while Krennić made a brief but detailed sketch. A jeweller was already working on a replica.

But Andor’s arrival would force them to act quicker. Krennić was hopeful that Tarkin’s machine-gun-wielding minions would at least be able to guard the excavation site, but Andor was resourceful. No doubt he had some sort of shady friends in Cairo. It would be rather easy to infiltrate the camp disguised as one of the numerous faceless workers.

So… a preemptive strike was in order. That should be right up Tarkin’s alley.

Meandering his way through the controlled chaos of the site, he slipped next to Tarkin, who did not lower himself to turn towards his Croatian expert.

“You have made a decision, I assume?” The German asked, eyes still on the hustle and bustle around them.

“One should not be hasty when deciding such things,” he replied, smiling lightly as the Oberst grew a bit irritated. “But in this case, I fully agree with your proposal.” He concluded, the smile grewing a bit bigger and more malicious.

“I will take care of it,” Tarkin replied with a nod.

_Let’s hope you do a better job than in Nepal_ , Krennić’s mind supplied, but outwardly, he grinned politely. “Of course.”

* * *

 

“I still don’t understand why we have to be so…. UMPF!”

Bodhi’s voice was cut of by Jyn, who reached up and put her hand over her adopted brother’s mouth. After a second, he stilled, but remained decidedly unhappy about the situation.

Normally, Cassian would have been irritated by the Pakistani’s behavior, but even though he only knew him for four days, he already found it impossible to be mad at Bodhi. The man was a saint. Not only had his excitement over flying and seeing the world reminded Cassian about his younger self, but Bodhi had done everything in his power to give Jyn and Cassian time to find themselves.

The flights had been long and arduous, but after arriving in Cairo, their target was finally within reach.

But that also meant the danger was back. They hadn’t seen any agents shadowing them on their trip from Asia to Egypt, but when the Nazis were involved, it was better to stay sharp.

That was why instead of being welcomed at the airport, they were sneaking through the narrow alleys of Cairo and why Bodhi should remain silent.

Cassian gave Jyn a grateful nod. “Relax, Bodhi, we are nearly there. And we don’t want to attract any of these men we faced in Patan, do we?”

Bodhi’s eyes were alight with slight panic and he shook his head, vehemently, but in silence.

It looked like some sort of bizarre procession: Cassian at the front, his left hand on his pistol and his right hand clenching Jyn’s left. The feeling still exhilarated him, no matter the circumstances. They had finally talked over all that had transpired in the past and while it would take time to heal, they were determined to make it work. They had to.

Jyn’s other hand was firmly tugging a curious Bodhi with her, who unknowingly tended to just stand still and gaze upon the different buildings, shops and stalls of the street merchants. Bodhi was older than Jyn, perhaps even as old as Cassian, but he behaved like a curious child.

Still, it was impossible to be mad at him. Cassian envied him for that quality. It would have made his life easier. A lot easier.

After some more sneaking, they finally arrived at Saw’s house. It didn’t look like much, but anyone familiar with Egypt knew what mansions and gardens hid behind dusty and completely unappealing walls.

They received the most hearty welcome one could hope for. Saw was at home and upon seeing Cassian, immediately enveloped him in a bone crushing hug.

Sallah Mohammed Faisel el-Kahir was a tall, sturdy man with a beard that framed his face and highlighted two kind eyes. A traditional fez covered his black hair.

Cassian had met him quite frequently over the times, once even with Galen and Jyn on a summer dig in the Maghreb. Sallah - who had acquired the nickname “Saw” after some mysterious activities he allegedly had been involved in during the Arab Revolution - was loyal, steadfast and one of the few persons in the world Cassian would trust with his life.

After he had released Cassian from his hug, he had spotted Jyn and although she had changed more than Cassian, Saw recognised her immediately and the hug she received was no less emotional than the one the Mexican had endured.

When he asked about Galen, the mood dropped. Saw had a deep fondness for both the professor and Lyra, having taken the strenuous and costly voyage from Egypt to London to visit her funeral. Hearing that Galen had died, in a faraway land no less, brought tears to the eyes of a man who looked like he could tear down walls with his bare fists.

Bodhi had awkwardly stood beside, quite happy to be ignored for once. That had ended when Jyn introduced him as her adopted brother and Saw had hugged him too without even a moment of hesitation.

It was early afternoon when they arrived on the terrace of Saw’s big house, overlooking the entire city of Cairo. They were joined by Saw’s wife Fayah and their hoard of children, ranging from age fourteen to six and all very curious about the new guests. Bodhi especially had caught their interest and it was funny to watch him interact clumsily.

Jyn was another topic though. Her feral attitude and seething impatience was vastly dampened by them. She laughed freely, even joined them in their little games and answered their questions happily. Cassian caught himself just standing there, leaning against a wall and picturing her and a few children of their own.

Saw’s paw of a hand landing on his shoulder brought him back to the here and now.

“Cairo. The city of trouble, sweat and poverty.” Like an afterthought, he added. “But a paradise on earth.”

Cassian laughed. It was true. Once you lived long enough in a place, you tended to overlook not so pretty sights or ignore problems. For all the faults Bedford had, it still felt more like home than Mexico. He realized it just now.

But maybe, he thought, catching another look at Jyn, home was a person.

In the background, Saw’s children had gathered around a table, screaming and laughing. Over their heads, Cassian saw a small monkey wreaking havoc on the table, stealing a date and knocking over a glass of wine.

Like an angry derwish, Saw’s wife immediately intervened. “Silence! Why do you forget yourselves in front of visitors? What is this? Where did this animal come from?”

While she spoke, the monkey had judged Jyn to be the most interesting human around and jumped on her shoulder, playing with her hair. Instead of grabbing the cheeky animal and throwing it off the terrace, Jyn actually laughed.

God, how he had missed that sound.

“What an adorable creature,” she hummed, earning cheers of approval from the children.

Even Sallah and Fayah smiled.

“Then it shall be welcome in our house,” Fayah replied happily, before joining Jyn and their children on the way back inside. They had agreed that she and Bodhi would help their hosts with preparing dinner, while Cassian and Saw would talk about business.

To be honest, it was not like Jyn to volunteer for domestic duties while leaving Cassian to talk about something so interesting alone. Some foul play was afoot, but investigating would surely destroy the frail new plant that was their relationship. Jyn would do nothing harmful, but he was worried nevertheless. For her. Despite being a professor’s daughter, Jyn’s plans would make the boldest generals proud.

Saw poured Cassian and himself a healthy dose of wine before the set down at at small, two person table overlooking the city.

“I knew they would hire you, Saw. You’re the best digger in Egypt,” Cassian began while Saw put down the bottle.

Saw just waved his hand as if he was ashamed by such high praise. “My services are entirely inconsequential for them.” It was clear he wasn’t too happy with the foreign guests. “They hired or shanghaied every digger in Cairo. The excavation is enormous! They only hire strongbacks and they pay pennies for them,” he added with disgust. Saw always had strong feelings on how his countrymen were exploited, by the British or their own kind.

“It’s as if the pharoahs had returned.” Saw shook his head. “They found the map room just yesterday.”

Cassian bolted upright. “Already?” He asked, his voice thick with angry disbelief.

Saw nodded. “You can say what you want about them, but they are well organized and well equipped. And they have a foreign expert leading them.”

“Who?” Cassian knew that apart from Galen, he was perhaps the only one qualified to lead such an excavation. Unless…

“Some Slavic guy. Called Kren-nich or something like that.”

Cassian began to laugh. But it was not a happy laugh. It sounded more like the laughs from Jyn in Nepal.

“Krennić,” he repeated. Saw studied him carefully, only dimly aware what connection Cassian and the Croatian had.

Cassian swallowed his fury and his disbelief. Of course Krennić would sink so low to work with the Nazis to get the Ark. No doubt he was behind the incident in Nepal. He had tried to hurt Jyn twice.

He would not get a third chance.

“They’re not gonna find the Well of Souls without this,” Jyn’s voice joined them from behind, startling both men. The headpiece lay in her hand.

“Of course,” Saw began, rising from his seat. “Lyra’s medaillon,” he said, almost sounding reverent. Jyn nodded, joining them at the table and laying the headpiece in the middle of it.

“Who could tell us about the markings?” Cassian asked in direction of Saw, who studied the carvings around the centerpiece with a tilted head.

“Perhaps a man I know can help us with that,” the Egyptian replied, deep in thoughts. “But there’s something else...”

“What?” Jyn had spoken, her hand resting comfortingly on Saw’s arm.

“The Ark,” Saw began gravely and all humor had disappeared from his voice. He almost sounded like Brody back in Bedford. “If it is there, at Tanis… Then it is something that man was not meant to disturb. Death has always surrounded it. It is not of this Earth.”

Jyn and Cassian shared a quick glance. Then, Jyn spoke. “I know, Saw. The Ark ruined my father’s life to some extent. If I had something to say about it, it could be buried beneath the sands forever.”

“The problem is,” Cassian interjected, “that the Nazis won’t leave it alone. Our only chance to keep it from being abused is finding it first and bringing it to a place out of reach of Patine’s goons.”

Sallah nodded, but he didn’t seem fully convinced. Jyn’s expression was unreadable in the fading light.

“I suggest going to sleep,” their host said. “If we want to foil their plans, there’s a lot to do tomorrow. I can take you to my expert and then we can plan the next step.” He got up. “I have a room prepared for you two. And one for your brother, of course.”

Cassian stopped breathing for a moment. One room for them both meant one bed. Jyn looked equally unsure, but neither of them felt like telling Saw about the complicated state of their relationship. So they nodded gratefully, followed their host and said goodnight to Bodhi, who had already bunked in the room next to them.

When they found themselves alone in their room, staring at the one bed, they turned to each other and smiled nervously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, trivia and explanations for this chapter can be found [here](https://thenewleeland.tumblr.com/post/163464083081/rotla-chapter-seven-authors-notes)!
> 
> In the next chapter, we'll see some action in the streets of Cairo and Sallah's hidden talents.
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


	8. Cairo, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before meeting with Sallah's contact, Jyn, Cassian and Bodhi spent the morning sauntering through the markets of Cairo. But their relaxing day comes to an abrupt end when Arab cutthroats attack them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, it's been far too long, but Rogues of the Lost Ark is back! And I've got a bit more written, so hopefully, the next update will be sooner.
> 
> The plot develops and we're getting closer to meeting more beloved characters. ;)
> 
> As always, special thanks to [Kobo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kobo/pseuds/Kobo) for being the most awesome beta in the world! :)

* * *

Cassian couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty when they strolled through the busy streets of Cairo at the next morning. Bodhi had been uncharacteristically quiet over breakfast, just once and awhile glancing at Jyn and Cassian, who only smiled happily at each other across the table. One time, Cassian had spotted it, and an ashamed Bodhi had turned red, hiding his face in his food.

It wasn’t like that Cassian was a randy guy who couldn’t keep it in his pants. Quite the opposite, really. Which was perhaps why despite saying that they were going to take things slow, their resolve hadn’t lasted all too long. It had begun innocently, a hand on the other’s back, rejoicing in the familiar comfort both had missed. One thing had let to the other. He had never been able to resist Jyn and honestly, he didn’t put up any resistance.

Still, as guests in another house, one with children for heaven's sake, they had tried to keep quiet and succeeded. A bit. Judging from Bodhi’s facial expressions - which ranged from  “I’m glad for you too, but in the room next to me?” to “Are you fucking kidding me?” - the Pakistani had a rather hard night. Cassian didn’t envy him. As wonderful as it was doing it, listening to someone else doing it was just awkward. Maybe even traumatizing.

The man Sallah hoped would help them decipher the writings on Jyn’s medaillon was old, busy, very well respected and apparently very wise. Cassian’s travels taught him real knowledge and wisdom did not necessarily require a fancy degree from a university. Local sources often brought forth information and stories no book could ever have. Of course, you had to be careful. After all, oral tradition could have been changed, exaggerated or understated within a short time span. Just one person telling a story different to the other and all historical and archaeological use would be lost. In the case at hand, the medaillon was at least three thousand years old. A lot could be forgotten and lost during such a long time span.

Despite the urgency of the matter, the earliest “appointment” they could get was in the afternoon. Cassian wasn’t happy with it, considering every minute might bring Krennić and the Nazis closer to finding the Ark, but he knew better than to rush people they needed.

And it wasn’t like there weren’t any pleasant activities to spend the morning with.

After a cheery breakfast - Bodhi being the exception - with Sallah and his family, the three of them decided to take a stroll through the city markets. Both Bodhi and Jyn were very interested in exploring the city a bit, completely understandable considering they spent the last months in a frozen hell amongst mostly criminal beings. Cassian was a bit concerned with German spies spotting them, but he knew better than to argue with Jyn. Plus, the crowd was rather dense and while they stood out a bit, the chances of them being identified were low.

His right arm intertwined with Jyn’s left, they strolled down the narrow street, stopping once and awhile to peak at the range of goods the merchants offered. Cassian decided to pick up some fresh food and maybe some other useful little presents for Sallah and Fayah. After all, they went to a great risk when they accepted the three of them in their house.

Just like the day before, Bodhi behaved like some sort of puppy, running around with wide eyes and trying to see as much as possible, but also keeping close to Jyn and Cassian to avoid getting lost. Cassian was happy the young Pakistani still had the sheer curiosity of youth, something he himself had lost a bit. And Jyn looked absolutely beautiful with a joyful smile on her face while she saw her good friend so cheerful.

The monkey that had invaded Sallah’s house yesterday had disappeared two streets ago, much to Jyn’s chagrin. She really liked the silly little animal, but apparently something or someone else had caught his attention.

If he was honest, Cassian was ok with it. It meant Jyn focused even more on him, giving him more of her blithe smiles that made him remember the night before. It was easy to lose his head when they once again walked arm in arm through the streets. It felt like the past was coming back. No, not the past. The future. A better future.

A bit preoccupied with staring at each other, they had lost sight of Bodhi for a moment.

“He must have thought he’d rather give us some privacy,” Jyn said with a guilty smile. “But I better go and look for him.” She sounded a bit worried and Cassian briefly squeezed her shoulder - he refrained from a more intimate show of affection considering their surroundings - in support and she replied with another smile before rounding the corner of the alley they had last seen the Pakistani enter.

The Mexican was rather observant normally, but on this particular morning, he did not see the strange looking pair that they had walked past just minutes before and who had been particularly interested in the medaillon Jyn wore around her neck. All his instincts had been against taking it with them, but they would need it anyway and Jyn never parted with it.

* * *

Right above Cassian, a small Arab man with an eye-patch and a badly shaven face gestured down on the street, speaking in a hushed and hurried mix of English and Arabic. Flanking him were two tall Europeans, their heavy trench coats an ill-suited garment in the heat of Cairo. The man on the left simply nodded before turning around and mustering the cadre of Egyptian goons they had hired over the last two days.

None of them were even close to German soldiers, more like some rabble and street urchins armed with knives and the knowledge that they had nothing left to lose. For a few coins, they were ready to do almost everything. It had been hard work drilling the explicit orders into their heads, and even now, the German was worried they might screw it up.

It was the only option though. There were no better specialists in town and involving German troops would draw too much attention. The rabble would have to do.

With a curt nod, he dismissed them, knowing fully well that Oberst Tarkin would not tolerate another failure.

* * *

“Hey!”

Bodhi flinched timidly, but relaxed a lot once he turned and saw it was Jyn who had addressed him. Immediately, his face started to redden all over again, and the new colour clashed with his black beard. Half amused, half worried, Jyn noticed he wouldn’t meet her eyes, merely staring at the floor and playing with a stone that lay on the ground, poking it with his feet.

“Hey,” he meekly replied, still avoiding eye contact. But Jyn was having none of it.

“Are you alright?” Her voice now had a bit of genuine concern in it. She hadn’t been worried before, Bodhi was no small child and wandering off was completely fine. But this hesitant and timid behavior was worrying her.

Bodhi nodded again, still not looking up. “Eh, yes, of course. Just all the stress you know. The new impressions. And the weather. Quite a change isn’t it? I mean it was warm in Lahore, too, but this is something different entirely, especially after our time in Patan, don’t you think? I mean now we have to watch out for sandstorms instead of snowstorms…” He babbled on, clearly trying to change the subject.

Jyn watched him, unsure if she should be amused or concerned by his antics, her elbow resting on her hip and her chin on her right hand. With her head tilted, she searched for his eyes. He met her’s for a second before looking down again, blushing some more.

“So, eh, you and Cassian are, eh, back together after…” He stumbled with his words, missing the courage to address the elephant in the room. No. Courage wasn’t the problem. It was just… Well, awkward.

Jyn nodded slowly. “We’re very well on our way, yes.” With a sigh that signalized she wasn’t thrilled either to go into details what had exactly happened that night, she added. “So you heard us?”

Bodhi, now red like one of the tomatoes sold at the market, nodded again.

Jyn slung an arm around his shoulder, trying to ease his discomfort. When she spoke again, she was slowly and carefully picking her words. She would have preferred a different ambience for her and Cassian to rekindle their physical relationship, but the adventure in Patan had shown life could be short. One touch had let to another and then. Well.

“Listen, I’m sorry, really. I promise, we’ll be quieter next time.” Of course she didn’t promise it wouldn’t happen again - who would she be kidding?

She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Bodhi got even redder before mumbling something about checking out a stall in the next alley. Before he disappeared around the corner though, he turned around and added with a sincere smile “I’m happy for you, Jyn. Really.”

Jyn couldn’t help but let a grin take over her features. She cared a lot about Bodhi and while she did not need his approval, she was glad he was happy for her all the same.

Not wanting to leave Bodhi unsupervised, she stayed close to the alley, checking the goods of a smaller stand right next to it. She had no real need for an afghan - especially considering she was closer to Afghanistan only days ago - but the handmade weaving interested her nonetheless. She did not notice four men in white linen clothes entering the alley Bodhi had disappeared in at first, but when the merchant muttered something in Arabic, sounding worried, she peeked around the corner.

There were only three smaller stalls in the alley, which was basically a dead end. Bodhi was cornered next to a small one who sold what appeared to be some sort of tinnef. Four men surrounded him, dressed completely in white except for a black sash they had wrapped around her waist and black turbans. Two of them brandished short, crude knifes.

Jyn immediately shifted to attack mode. She had no weapon with her, but that was easily remedied. A stall next to the entry sold frying pans, rather cheaps ones, but the metal would do the job nonetheless. Not caring for the shocked vendor, she grabbed one and immediately snuck up behind the men, who closed in on Bodhi. Remarkably, the Pakistani man did not scream for help. With a wave of affection Jyn realized that he didn’t call for her to keep her safe. Sweet, noble Bodhi.

England had always been proud of a chivalric reputation. You could very much be in two minds about said reputation, but Jyn for sure wouldn’t “honor” it in this situation.

Before the men even knew that she approached them, she whacked the nearest two over the head with the pan, which to her surprise and delight did not dent. Both men went down immediately, clutching their turban-clad heads. The man next to her spun around, but before he could use his knife, the pan hid him straight in the face. His nose broke with a sickening crunch and he tumbled back, clutching his now bleeding face.

Shocked, but not as sluggish as his companions, the last man immediately lunged for Jyn and tried to grab her arms. His attempt, however, was made without allowing for Bodhi who tangled his food with the Arab’s knee. The veiled attacker fell to the ground, hitting the wooden staff that supported the canopy of the stall to his right. With a crash, the satin - and more importantly, the whole sales counter, pelted down on him, ensuring that he would not participate in the shuffle further.

Still, nose bleeding guy seemed to regain his senses and one of Jyn’s first two victims stirred on the ground. Jyn was confident she could take both of them out, but a panicked voice in her mind reminded her that she was not the only one to care about: Cassian might face the same attackers right now! Grabbing Bodhi’s hand, she dragged him out of the alley, hellbent on finding the Mexican.

Unfortunately, her way was blocked by more ruffians, who bulldozed their way through other shoppers. All of them were armed with scimitars that gave them greater range than Jyn’s improvised weapon. Their only option was to evade them.

With Bodhi in tow, Jyn raced through the market crowd. If they managed to get enough people between them and their mysterious attackers, they might be able to disappear in a smaller alley and backtrack to where they had left Cassian. She just hoped he would be still alright then.

* * *

He missed her. He missed her and felt ridiculous about it. After being parted for all this time, she left his side for three minutes and he already felt the need to hasten through the streets and scream her name. _Easy there_ , he told himself. _You have no right to be so clingy after all the mierda you pulled off_. He couldn’t act all controlling around Jyn. Plus, she and Bodhi deserved a moment. Cassian was no fool, Jyn’s friend must have heard their activities last night. He wasn’t too keen on talking about it, so he kept his distance.

But it was hard. To calm himself, he started inspecting the fruits on a stall operated by a tiny older woman. He gave her a gentle smile before taking on one of the lemons in his hand, checking it for dents or rotten parts. No, this one was firm and soft at the same time, fitted his hand perfectly. Just like…

 _Jyn loved lemonade,_ he remembered. They had spent more than one summer afternoon on her father’s porch, sipping lemonade while he worked on his papers. Well, tried to work. Jyn was quite a distraction, especially on hotter terms. She knew just exactly how to tease him and get his mind off things. Not that he complained. Not at all.

A sudden shriek by the old woman cruelly interrupted his fond memories and he just spun around in time to see an Arab lunge himself at him, face covered by a black kūfiyyah. Surprised, Cassian reacted quickly and intercepted the right hand of them man that wielded a dagger before the assailant could bring it down. Nevertheless, the sheer energy of the jumping man pushed Cassian back and he nearly tumbled down.

The surprise effect had worn of though and Cassian immediately fought back. His attacker wasn’t stronger or taller than him and, judging by his crude weapon, not an elite fighter. Still, he had to hurry. Four men, dressed just like the one in front of him, were only a few metres away and would join the fray soon.

Cassian attacked the naked calf of his opponent, dragging his boot down the shin and stomping on the bare feet, the sandals offering little protection for the Arab. The man stumbled and Cassian shoved him, sending him crashing into one of his companions.

Another one charged Cassian straightaway, his arms empty. He aimed a punch for Cassian’s arm, but the Mexican easily blocked the slow attack, grabbing the Arab’s arm and holding him in place before delivering a sucker punch straight to his face. The man crashed to the ground, knocked out or at least incapacitated.

Four were still standing nonetheless. One wielding a bat took a swing at Cassian, but only hit one of his fellow ruffians in the chest. The Mexican made the best use of his sudden distraction, punching the bat-man in the chin. As he turned around, the third man charged him, scimitar raised high above his head to swing down on him. However, this made his whole body open for an attack and Cassian exploited it ruthlessly, crashing his fist into his throat.

Bat-guy had stood up in the meantime and received a swift kick to the stomach before he could orientate himself. Cassian tried to draw his whip - the street had emptied and he finally had the space he needed to use it - but another veiled man crashed into his back, forcing him into the fruit stall. Reminded of a similar incident in Jyn’s bar, he grabbed a halved fruit and pressed it into the man’s face. His attacker let loose a scream clutching his eyes that had made contact with the sour lemon juice.

Cassian’s delight lasted only for a few heartbeats until yet another cutthroat charged him, hellbent on impaling the archaeologist on his scimitar. Panicked, Cassian spun himself out of the way with a pirouette that would have a Bol'šój dancer proud. He only vaguely registered the attack meant for him impaled another ruffian.

Finally with some room to breathe, his thoughts immediately went to Jyn (and Bodhi). These men weren’t just some random robbers trying to steal from some Western tourists. Krennić must have been involved, lowlives like these were just his kind of associates. Not bothering to check on anything else, he teared down the street he had seen Jyn disappear into, all the while screaming her name on top of his lungs. _I have just found her again. I can’t loose her so soon._

Whip in hand, he hurried through the dense crowd, but instead of the small alley he was looking for, he found himself on a market square filled with even more people. Cassian desperately tried to climb on a nearby cart to get a better view, but he couldn’t find either Jyn’s tiny form or Bodhi. Hurrying back to where he came for, the mass of people suddenly gave way left and right.

 _Am I Moses?_ Cassian asked himself for a brief moment, but the reason for the sudden change had far more down-to-earth reasons. Facing him was huge Arab, at least six feet four tall. He was clad entirely in black with a red sash across his waist and a turban bordering his face. Through his beard, he smiled at Cassian in anticipation.

The most eye-catching trait, however, was a large scimitar the man wielded with two hands before grinning, spinning the weapon around and passing it from hand to hand as to find a better grip on it. Finally settling it his right hand, the bearded man couldn’t resist showing off, twirling and twisting it around in various moves that no doubt were meant to impress the gaffers and frighten Cassian.

Now how was he going to defeat this guy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, trivia and explanations for this chapter can be found [here](https://thenewleeland.tumblr.com/post/165377817506/rotla-chapter-eight-authors-notes)!
> 
> A new view on an iconic Indiana Jones scene, more fighting and a lot drama awaits us in the next chapter!
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


	9. Cairo, Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassian has to overcome an Egyptian swordsman while Jyn and Bodhi get a helping hand from a mysterious pair. For Cassian, things go from bad to worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost four months...
> 
> In my defense, the months were busy for me and my beta and while there are about 10k written, the plot is now getting thicker and needs some more time. I won't promise another update soon, but rest assured, this story has not been and will not be forgotten.
> 
> As always, special thanks to [Kobo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kobo/pseuds/Kobo) for being the most awesome beta in the world! :)

* * *

Ibrāhīm Ḥusnī ʿAbd Rabbihi had grown up with stories from his great-grandfather. Aḥmad had been a soldier back when the French under Napoléon had invaded Egypt and defeated the Mamluks and although his stories changed from time to time (who could fault a venerable man for forgetting some details, after all, it had been eighty years!), one lesson he tried to teach had always remained the same: The age of the sword was over.

The French had cut down the mighty Mamluks, warriors that had even defeated the Mongolians, by the dozen, wielding rifles and bringing artillery to the field of battle.

Aḥmad, back then a young noble, had seen the devastating effects first hand. His opinion about swords (“It is a wonderful trait, don’t get me wrong. But it is oblique.”) hadn’t changed throughout the years, even after his daughter had married a master swordsman.

Young Ibrāhīm followed his father’s path, but nevertheless enjoyed listening to his grandfather. Aḥmad never directly discouraged his grandchild, but his warnings grew fiercer with every passing year. And he was right. Ibrāhīm was well educated and knew what happened outside of Egypt. While wars were still fought, the sword had been replaced. Still, he honored the blades his father wielded now at 55 like he did at ten. In a few weeks, his son would finally finish his own training and he could pass his family’s legacy on.

He hadn’t planned on fighting before that. After all, real sparring matches between the few remaining sword masters were extremely rare and real altercations even rarer. But after an enjoyable breakfast with his wife, his children and grandchildren, a young man had appeared at his doorstep. Ibrāhīm had invited him in and the youth had told him about a mighty Western fighter who had arrived in Cairo the other day. Strangely, this man was no gun-blazing American - he was an adventurer, who preferred close combat, a whip to be precise.

Ibrāhīm had been intrigued. His father had often said no weapon could be as big a challenge as a whip. While easily cut, the sheer flexibility in the use of it, depending immensely on its wielder, made it dangerous. This was a new challenge and he eagerly agreed to fight this legendary warrior.

Despite the worries of his wife, he fetched his family heirloom and followed the young man. At the gate, he gave her a last kiss before staving off his grandchildren who wanted nothing more than see their beloved and revered grandfather fight. But he consoled them with kind words and a promise to regale the harrowing tale once he returned.

The youth had brought him to a smaller market in the town and told him his opponent would arrive soon. That he did.

Ibrāhīm surveyed the man: He wasn’t very tall, maybe not even six foot. Perhaps half his age and with had a well-kept, but short beard. He looked tired, but that could easily be concentration.

It would be a glorious fight.

The sword master spun his weapon around, both to intimidate the opponent a bit and to stretch his muscles. The whip-wielder did not move and stayed eerily calm. Ibrāhīm felt respect for the man. He was not an amateur.

Slowly, the man reached for his belt - a distraction maneuver? Too late, Ibrāhīm realised that the man drew a gun and in one fluid motion pointed it at the sword master. A sting of flaming hot pain, just as his grandfather described it, blazed up from his throat and like a puppet with cut strings, the Egyptian collapsed into the dust.

The last thing he saw was his father’s sword being picked up by some street urchin and the last thing he thought before the world disappeared was that his grandfather had been right all along.

* * *

Such a strange term, honour: some cherished it as the most admirable of traits while others scoffed at the notion.

Cassian’s take on life was practical, it had to be. Otherwise he would have stayed an orphan boy in Mexico. Still, he despised false and ruthless behavior people like Krennić displayed. He was by no means a squeamish person, but there were boundaries.

Shooting the swordsman left a bad taste in his mouth. It felt very much like murder. Granted, the man might have just as easily killed him if Cassian would have come any closer, but still. He had shot the man in cold blood without being attacked and without giving the man a chance to do anything against it. He could have shot his arm or his leg. But he went for the kill. Honour? Surely, he had none.

He had been tired after fighting the first few ruffians. More importantly, Jyn was still missing. The thought of her banished all concerns he had about his conduct and the man lying dead in the middle of the square out of his mind and he raced back down, screaming her name over and over.

* * *

Despite the clamor of the city, the calls of the vendors, the conversations of the shoppers and her own beating heart, Jyn faintly heard Cassian screaming her name. It was reassuring and soul-tearing at the same time. At least he was still alive. Bodhi and Jyn, on the other hand, weren’t sure how long the same could be said for them.

Her original plan to rejoin Cassian had been thwarted by another set of veiled Arabs who cut off their escape route and forced them away from the centre of the district and into the small, narrow alleys. Jyn had initially thought of charging the new enemies head-on, but one of them had a machine-gun and made such an endeavour suicide.

Pushing a heavily breathing Bodhi ahead of her, Jyn raced around another corner and found herself in a cul de sac. She silently cursed her fate and spun around to face their pursuers. There were five, three of them veiled and two of them with scarred, evil faces looking like satisfied cats who finally had cornered the mouse. A particular nasty looking fellow licked his lips and scrutinized Jyn closely. Raising the frying pan above her shoulder, she turned her left foot towards the mob, only offering her side for an attack. Behind her, Bodhi murmured something that sounded like a prayer.

“Let them pass in peace,” a loud and clear voice suddenly made all of them spin around.

Out of yet another narrow passageway, a Chinese man of medium size came out, carrying a long wooden staff. Only upon a second glance, Jyn realized that his eyes were milky and grey. He was blind. But still, he moved with confidence and no sign of impairment.

“Let them pass in peace,” he repeated, continuing his self-assured walk.

The man who had ogled Jyn sneered. “Get lost, blind beggar, or I’ll carve you.”

The blind man seemed unimpressed. “I’m one with the Force and the Force is with me. I’m one with the Force and the Force is with me,” he repeated, not slowing down. The cutthroat nearest to the newcomer turned to face him.

“Who are you?” He asked and seemed genuinely curious. You could find a lot of different people in Cairo, but a Chinese man in robes - all black, but with a red sash - was a rare sight even here.

“A servant of the Force,” the Chinese man replied as if that would answer all the questions rather than raise more.

“He’s blind,” another ruffian said, sounding a bit amused and irritated at the same time.

“Is he deaf?” Yet another attacker asked.

Nasty face ran out of patience. “Enough. Gut him!”

His accomplice shrugged before lunging forward. But before his knife even came near to the blind man, the attacker lay on the ground unmoving. Jyn fancied herself a good fighter, but this blind man had dispatched his assailant as if it was nothing. Behind her, Bodhi gasped.

The next approached the Chinese man with more caution. After he failed to react, they too tried to stab him. Once again, the man spun aside, his staff flying around like an extension of his arm. The wooden weapon smacked one man in the chin, sending him down immediately, before striking another man's knife hand. Jyn pressed their advantage. Nasty face had made the mistake of losing her out of his side and paid dearly for it. Three strikes with the frying pan later, he lay on the ground, his brain overflowed with pain notifications from his groin area, his chest and his mouth. Blood poured from his face and several teeth clattered the ground.

The mystery man had easily dispatched the last of the cutthroats in the meantime. Just 40 seconds after cornering their prey, four of the five men were unconscious on the ground, the fifth only whimpered.

Jyn turned to thank their unexpected helper, but before she could say a word, yet another man appeared behind the Chinese. It was the one with the machine gun. His weapon raised, he prepared to let loose a storm of bullets. Jyn threw herself to the ground, too far away to pull Bodhi or the blind one down with her, hoping they would do so themselves.

When she dared to look up again, the gunman lay on the ground, unmoving like the rest of his companions. At the height of his head where he had stood, the wall was splattered with blood.

Out of the alley, gun still raised, came another man. Like the blind one, he was Chinese, but there were no more similarities between the two of them. Except for his head, his entire body was covered by some sort of red plate armor. He had a full beard and kept his long black hair in two braids that lay on both his shoulders. His eyes scanned the street for more hostiles before finally resting on Jyn - still with her frying pan raised - and a flabbergasted Bodhi.

“That was close,” the gunman said in rather good English.

“The Force protected me,” his blind companion replied with a cheery voice.

“I protected you!” The bearded man sounded mildly annoyed. Or was it more resignation?

“You carry an artefact of great danger with you,” the blind man addressed Jyn, still smiling and ignoring his gun-carrying friend. “Or should I say: You carried?”

In shock, Jyn checked her neck. Her medallion wasn’t there anymore! She must have lost it while running.

The man was blind, that was clear, but somehow he saw Jyn’s shock as clear as he had the ruffians earlier. “Don’t worry. It will be returned to you soon. All is as the Force wills it.”

Before Jyn could reply, Bodhi’s voice piped up. “Eh, thank you. With whom do we have the pleasure?”

The staff-wielder turned his head slightly towards Bodhi. “I’m Chirrut Îmwe and this is my companion, Baze Malbus.” The gruff man who had leaned himself against a house wall nodded brusquely. “And we are the Guardians of what you and your doctor are looking for.” Chirrut continued, a smile still engraved on his face.

“But how?” Jyn stuttered, completely taken by surprise. First the attack, than the running, the other fight, these two man, losing her medallion and now this man knew about Cassian. Did he work for Krennić?

No, unlikely. If he spoke the truth - and he seemed rather honest - he was actually working against the discovery of the Ark. For Jyn, deeds had always been more meaningful than words and based on that, the men were trustworthy.

The six Arab cutthroats on the ground were proof enough.

“Later, little sister. I will explain everything to you while we go. There might be more of them coming.” He turned around, back towards the alley he appeared in. After a brief look to Bodhi, Jyn followed him.

“And don’t worry about your doctor. He will be fine. There are a few tests he has to face, but you will soon be reunited. Just like your medaillon.”

* * *

Running more than five minutes in the sticky heat of Cairo, multiplied by hundreds of warm bodies, should have been exhausting. So should have been screaming. But Cassian couldn’t stop. He had lost count how many alleys he had checked, how many market squares he had searched. No sign of Jyn. (Or Bodhi, his mind added with a sting of shame.)

Still, he wouldn’t stop searching for her and if it took the rest of his life. Not after all that had happened. This would not be the end.

Rounding another corner, he suddenly stood in front of an old truck that was surrounded by a trio of men dressed the same way as the attackers from earlier. For a moment, they all stared at each other before one of them grabbed the machine gun hanging on his shoulder.

Luckily for Cassian, the man had little to no idea how to use it. His first salvo hit the cobblestones instead of the Mexican, who hastened to find cover behind yet another wall. Drawing his own pistol, he prepared to return fire, but several pleading hands reached for him. A cadre of old men, most likely beggars began to speak to him in Arabic. Cassian reached into his pocket, finding a few coins and tossing them further down the alley.

Over the rattling of the machine gun, he heard a voice yell “Na los, losfahren! Schnell, schnell!”

Definitely German, his mind supplied. These men were certainly hired by Krennić and his Nazi cronies.

He saw red. Once again it seemed, the Croatian put himself between Cassian and Jyn. A big mistake.

Despite being outnumbered and outgunned, Cassian spun around the corner, fury moving him forward. The truck had started driving towards him, the machine gunner standing on the footboard. Cassian put two bullets in his chest and he fell off the vehicle with a muffled scream. When the truck drove past him, he aimed for the driver, hitting him in the temple with another well-aimed shot. The Arab immediately slumped over and the truck went over a low ramp before overturning.

Cassian immediately sprinted towards the wreck, when it was engulfed in a fireball. Debris flew and a wave of hot air hit the archaeologist, throwing him back against a wall. As he opened his eyes, he recognized a golden piece of metal next to him.

Jyn’s medaillon.

His heart skipped a few beats. It was hot from the explosion. Jyn must have been in that truck. They must have somehow managed to subdue her - Bodhi too perhaps - and tried to transport her to the German camp. Perhaps they thought she’d knew more about the medaillon.

All this mattered little. He had to find her. The flaming wreck still burned and was a textbook example of devastation. His mind fought against the realization as hard as it could, but nonetheless it was clear. Jyn was dead. Dead due to his reckless and mindless behavior.

Tears welled up in his eyes. He had failed them. All of them. Lyra. Brody. Galen. Bodhi. Jyn. He had ruined her life once and as if that hadn’t been enough, he returned, only to drag her off and get her killed in some foreign land. For a moment, he wished the gunman had killed him. The pain was even worse than the pain of the evening he found out that the Ersos had left.

He stumbled blindly towards the wreck, determined to at least find her body and give her a proper funeral. On English soil. Like her mother. Not rotting and frozen on some distant mountain or unrecognisable buried in a mass grave in Egypt.

As he neared the truck, yet another group of veiled man appeared, armed with a wide array of swords, scimitar, knives and guns. More goons of Krennić, no doubt. For a brief moment, he considered charging them. Let it be over. Joining his parents, Galen and Jyn.

Through the fog of his thoughts, he heard a voice whispering to him “Go, Cassian!”

It sounded like Jyn.

It was all too much for Cassian, but he let his feet carry him away from the burning wreck of his hopes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, trivia and explanations for this chapter can be found [here!](https://thenewleeland.tumblr.com/post/169739410901/rotla-chapter-nine-authors-notes)
> 
> In the next chapter, Chirrut and Baze reveal the history of the Ark to Jyn and Bodhi while Cassian has to deal with his loss and to top it all, a gloating Croatian.
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


	10. Cairo, Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their mysterious saviours Baze and Chirrut tell Jyn and Bodhi about the Ark, Galen & Lyra and their own role in the story. Meanwhile, a crestfallen Cassian meets the one person that will sour his life even further...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Down to one month! That's better, isn't it? And the new chapter is quite beefy!
> 
> Fair warning, we'll depart from the original movie a lot and some of the characters in this AU will also react differently than their canon counterparts would react. But that's the charm of an AU. ;)
> 
> As always, special thanks to [Kobo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kobo/pseuds/Kobo) for being the most awesome beta in the world! :)

* * *

Patience had never been Jyn’s strong suite. Today was not any different.

Their mysterious helpers led them through even tighter and darker alleys than Jyn, Bodhi and Cassian had used when the first arrived in Cairo. Every step took them further away from the heart of the city, further away from Sallah, the meeting point. Further away from Cassian.

The blind man - Chirrut - had said Cassian would be alright and there hadn’t been any doubt in his voice. But why should she trust him? He had helped Bodhi and her, that couldn’t be denied. Still, Jyn never liked mysteries when they directly influenced her own life.

Just as she opened her mouth to demand a full explanation right now, Chirrut stopped. They had reached the outskirts of the city and a small house, made of bricks of the same colour as the sand surrounding them.

“We are here,” Chirrut stated in a cheery voice, turning around and gesturing with his left hand towards the wooden door to invite his visitors in. Behind them, Baze threw a last dark glare at the alley he came out of.

Bodhi moved towards the door, but Jyn stopped him by grabbing his arm. She ignored his questioning eyes and stayed focused on Chirrut. Despite the machine gun Baze carried, Jyn thought the blind man would be a greater threat.

Chirrut’s smile did not waver. “Ah, yes, of course. Your life hasn’t been easy, Jyn Erso, and I do not take your distrust of dear Baze and me as an insult. Come, I’ll go in first.”

He shoved the heavy door open before he finished speaking, showing more strength than his graceful physique suggested. Bodhi started fidgeting in her grip and Jyn released him.

“Do me a favour and get in there. Otherwise he will never shut up.” Baze spoke, but he sounded disinterested and scrutinized the clear blue sky instead of establishing eye contact.

“Jyn, I don’t think they’re trying to murder us. Why should they?” Bodhi still seemed a bit shaken, but his cheerful mode slowly returned as he turned towards the open door.

_I can think of a hundred reasons._ Her mind replied, but she stopped herself from biting back. It was nice that at least one of the people she cared about still had an optimistic view of the world. Plus, no matter what would behind the door, she would not let Bodhi face it all on his own.

The inside of the hut was spartan: A small kitchen that dovetailed with the main room. On the wall was a shelf containing old books, a few other utensils - tools mostly. Cassian would have found it very interesting. On the floor lay a few carpets and pillows and Jyn realized the room served as both a living space and a bedchamber.

Chirrut was already in the small kitchen, heating water in an iron pot. “Baze, please show our guests our most comfortable pillows while I prepare a tea.”

His partner just rolled his eyes before darkly pointing towards two cushy pillows on the left side of the room. Bodhi plopped down on one without hesitation and Jyn followed his example, although slower and with way more suspicion. Baze, who had removed his gun from his shoulder (but still kept it in arm’s reach), joined them.

It took a few minutes before Chirrut reappeared, carrying a pot of tea and four cups on a tray. With phenomenal precision he maneuvered his way through the cushions on the ground and sat down next to Baze. The hot liquid didn’t even spill over the edge of the pot when the blind man put down the tray.

Now, Jyn’s patience had run out. “Who are you? Why did you help us? How do you know about Cassian and my medaillon? About the Ark?”

Chirrut’s grin made her blood boil. “Ah, so young, so full of passion and so many questions. But I have made a promise to answer them. So I shall.”

But Chirrut clearly loved keeping them in suspense. Before finally starting his explanation, he poured them all some tea, inhaled the sweet flavor - some berries, but Jyn didn’t care which - and took a sip.

“Mhm, delicious. A pity we didn’t have the time to get more at the market. Another time then.” Jyn fidgeted on her seat and he must had noticed her unrest, as he immediately continued. “I’ve already told you who we are. Baze and I are guardians of the lost object you and your doctor are looking for. And we did help you because we - just like you - don’t want these other men to find it. As for the other questions…” He smiled again. “Word goes around, especially in a noisy city like Cairo.”

“Guardians? Beg your pardon, but you don’t look… Jewish to me. Or Egyptian?”

Baze scoffed.

“You are correct, we are not from these lands. Neither do we belong to any of the religions that you would think of. I shall explain it to you: Over four thousand years ago, an Order was founded. An Order that did not worship gods, but a power. A power nobody could see, only feel. A power holding our lives, nature, everything together. We refer to it as ‘the Force.’ Our members can be found around the world. In Egypt. In India. In China. And even in England.” He added with a tiny smile.

Jyn’s face must have betrayed her shock. Did he mean to imply…?

“Yes, Jyn, your mother believed in it too. That’s why she gave you the medallion.”

“But,” Jyn stuttered, overwhelmed with yet another twist of events. Her mother, a member of some strange mystical Order worshipping an invisible power? That sounded ludicrous.

Yet, she never had known Lyra as well as she would have liked too. At her young age, she had only begun to understand what adults thought and how difficult life had been. If she was honest with herself, she had to admit it was a possibility.

“That’s why she was so focused on kyber crystals, little sister. Just like us, she believed these crystals could harness the Force, amplify it. She hoped that through them, we would get energy like the one moving your cars, your planes and lighting up your houses.”

He gave them a few moments to let the information sink in while he took another sip of his tea. “It’s excellent, you should try it,” he gently added and Bodhi immediately reached for his cup. Jyn did not, too stunned by the words of this mysterious man.

“So that’s why my father was searching for the Ark?”

Chirrut nodded. “Yes. His beliefs weren’t as strong as Lyra’s, but what her faith told her, science confirmed to him. They may have had different levels of faith, but that did not diminish the love they felt for each other. It was truly wonderful to see. To witness. Even I could feel it.” Chirrut’s voice had gotten dreamy.

“You knew my parents well?” Jyn asked, eyes wide.

Chirrut’s smile got a bit weaker. “Yes, we knew them. Twenty years ago, they came to Egypt. Your father had found a trace leading him to Tarnis in the archives of the British Museum, I believe. And Lyra wouldn’t have been Lyra if she hadn’t joined him. They fought a lot while they were here, but as it turned out, there was a reason for it.” His smile returned.

“Your father buried himself in his work, he was downright obsessed. And Lyra thought he might love the search for the Ark too much. More than his family. She feared he would lose himself in it and that it might corrupt him one day. So when he found the medallion you carried, he gave it to her to show her that as much as the search and archaeology meant to him, it would never come close to what she was for him.”

Chirrut’s voice drifted away, as it often happened when older people spoke of past times, of better times. “Imagine their happiness when they found out about you soon after. Yes, yes,” he continued, once again feeling Jyn’s jaw dropping even more. “You have been to Egypt before, Jyn Erso. But you wouldn’t remember it.”

“I have seen many sunrises in my life. They were nothing compared to the light in your father’s face when Lyra told him.” Baze, not Chirrut, added this detail and hearing the gruff, taciturn man speaking with such strong sentiments nearly knocked Jyn out cold.

“Alas, the weather wasn’t right for Lyra. She always suffered from the heat and so they abandoned the search for the Ark to travel back to England. Galen told me he would return once you were old enough and we should wait here until the day arrives and keep others from finding it. It seems like the time has come. Although,” he added and now sincere grief had found its way into his voice. “Only one Erso has returned.” Chirrut’s head fell.

“Your father wrote me when your mother died. We weren’t at the funeral, we wouldn’t have made it in time. Also, we still had to protect the Ark. From the moment he returned to Egypt, Krennić started showing more interest in your father. He knew he had found something and his attempts only got more extreme once Lyra had died. I don’t need to tell you about what happened afterwards.”

Chirrut’s mirth had disappeared now and he looked at Jyn with honest grief. “I’m very sorry about your parents, little sister. They were taken from us too soon. I won’t offer you any more meaningless words and I don’t want to convince you to help us protect the Ark because it is something your parents would have wanted. Because in the end, the Ark was nothing next to your safety.”

For Jyn, it was all too much. Her parents the members of a secret Order, the Ark not only a historical artefact, but a means to gather and exploit some unseen power? Her skepticism told her to diminish the blind man’s tales as rubbish. But how did he know about the rest? Her parents had been to Egypt and especially the story of the medallion was true - she had heard it from Lyra, Galen and Brody. So how would these two men know if they hadn’t been close friends with Galen and Lyra some time ago?

“If you knew Galen, why didn’t Sallah lead us to you immediately?” It was Bodhi who had come up with this question and Jyn couldn’t help but be proud of her adopted brother. Bodhi always seemed so shy, one who was comfortable in the background, but his mind wasn’t any less bright than Cassian’s or hers. She hadn’t considered this connection, not until now.

“Your friend Sallah is a wise and noble man and his desire to keep the Ark away from those who would misuse its power is just as big as ours, even though he is no believer. He was quite young back then and he just started a family. Baze and I, we never had any. So we all decided not to involve him. The less he knew, the less danger would he be in. Or so we thought. It seems trouble has found him anyway.”

“And Cassian!” Jyn added with sudden panic. She hadn’t forgotten about him, that was impossible. But all these new information had dulled the part of her brain responsible for wanting to find him as soon as possible.

“Yes, the doctor also has a large role to play in the events that unfold.” A hand, withered by the heat, sand and age found its way to Jyn’s shoulder and although the feeling wasn’t something she was used to and normally shied back from, it calmed her.

“He is in pain right now. The horrible sort of pain no injury can cause, but the feeling that you’ve failed somebody you love.”

Jyn gasped and tried to get up from the cushions. But Chirrut’s grip was firm and kept her down. Her eyes blazed with anger as she attempted to free herself, searching for the frying pan she had put down next to her. Baze reached for his gun.

“He is alive and uninjured. You can not see him now, he’s too far away for you to reach. But he is strong. You’ll be united again soon.”

“When?” Jyn snapped. “Your beliefs might be enough for you, but they certainly aren’t for me.”

“Tomorrow, little sister. It’s far too dark now and the alleys aren’t safe. Going now would only get you killed. Be patient, at least for the night. All is as the Force wills it.”

Jyn bit back a bitter laugh. “So it was the Force’s will that my parents die?”

Silence reigned in the room.

“I myself struggle from time to time with doubt. I believe the answer is that some events in our life are predetermined. Others just happen. I can’t give you an answer why your parents were taken from you, Jyn Erso. I don’t know why evil is on the rise in this world. I only know that I will stand against it.”

He looked at her, just as if he really saw her and tried to assess her. “The question for you, Jyn Erso, is: Will you stand against them too?”

* * *

Cassian stumbled through the streets of Cairo, knocking into strangers, stands and sometimes even walls. It seemed like he felt nothing, heard nothing. Saw nothing.

At least that was the impression the people that encountered him had. More than one cursed the infidel who was staggering through the busy streets.

Inside his brain, vivid scenes of the shoot-out from a few minutes ago blocked out the world around him.

Why did he shoot the driver? The man had been unarmed, was no threat. More importantly, he knew that Jyn was inside the truck. And what would happen to a truck without a driver? It would crash, you bloody idiot!

_You ruined her life a few years ago. And once you found her again, you killed her._ His brain had no mercy. The guilt was heavier than anything he had ever carried. Crushing. It crippled his steps, made his tongue feel lead and taste like iron. He felt dizzy, hot and cold. All of it at once. The only time he had felt similar was when he had caught malaria during a trip to the Upper Volta.

Pure instinct led him to the small and shabby bar they had agreed upon as a meeting place with Sallah this morning. This morning. Mere hours ago. It felt like a different life back then. A life full of hope. A life with a future beyond the simple adrenaline-kick the hunt for a historic pieces brought with it. Something meaningful. Maybe not even meaningful, but just wonderful. Why did everything had to mean something?

He knew that from now on, he would not use BC and AD anymore. It would be before he killed and after he killed Jyn.

Cassian was overwhelmed by the sudden wish that he could follow her to wherever she had gone. To any sort of afterlife, heaven, hell or whatever. And if there was indeed nothing, he wished there would both be nothing. The pain would be gone, the memories too. He wouldn’t exist and he wouldn’t care.

But no. A quick way out was not in the cards for him. The least he could do was find the bloody Ark, keep it away from Krennić and his minions. Otherwise, he would let Galen down a final time. Jyn’s death would not be any less pointless should he succeed, but the man responsible for it would be his vanguard in death.

The bar - Brody would have called it a shebeen - was small, not very clean and stank of sweat. The Arab guests noticed him, but didn’t pay any attention. When he reached the bar, the bearded man behind the counter gave him a brief look before retrieving a bottle filled with a brown liquid and a dusty glass without speaking a word. Cassian threw a few coins at him - too much by far, but who cared - and stumbled towards the entrance. He sat down on a table facing the street and proceeded to drink himself into oblivion. He never had been much of a drinker, but today, it seemed like the only sensible course of action.

It could have been an hour or just a few minutes. Cassian was pretty dizzy now and nearly lay with his head on the table. He didn’t notice that the barkeeper had watched him the entire time. And he didn’t notice the three tall man in suits that had suddenly encircled his table.

“Herr Jones,” their leader, a tall man with a face like a brick wall began with a German accent. “There is someone in this bar who would like to see you.”

GeStaPo, most likely. Definitely Krennić’s goons. Which meant their boss was the person who wanted to talk to him. Of course. Cassian still had the medallion.

For a brief moment, he considered drawing his gun and shooting them over. But no. They were just henchmen. If he shot another person today, it would be Krennić.

The trio escorted him deeper into the bar. It was just another empty space with curved archways, made out of stone and painted in a dull white. At some walls, bits of the stone and cement mix had crumbled off, but nobody cared. Open doors let in a lot light and he had to pinch his eyes against the brightness. The tables were occupied by groups of bearded Arabs, some of them playing board games, smoking water pipes or simply talking. In the middle of the room, an old ventilator was doing its best to freshen up the stale and oppressive air.

At one table in the middle of the room sat Krennić. He was dressed in a suit, but contrary to the ones of his goons, his was airy, custom-tailored and despite his tie, the Croatian wasn’t sweating or feeling the heat at all. He was smoking a water pipe with his left hand, while his right lazily spun around a pocket watch. On the table stood another bottle and two glasses, one empty, one full. The content of the bottle looked much nicer than the one he had gotten. The glasses weren’t dusty either.

“Good afternoon, Doctor Andor,” Krennić said cheerfully, clearly amused. Once more, Cassian noticed that the Croatian looked like a shark. Or no. Sharks were emotionless. He looked like a cat that had cornered a mouse and was just playing with her.

“I should kill you right now,” he replied through clenched teeth, his right hand reaching for his pistol.

Krennić wasn’t alarmed. “Ah, yes, I can understand the impulse, I really can. But I have to remind you that it was you, not me, who dragged young Jyn into this entire affair. What is annoying you is the simple fact that you are responsible, my old friend. Isn’t that true?”

No, it wasn’t. He would never had shot the truck if Krennić’s goons hadn’t attacked her. She would never had left home if not for Krennić and his threats. Her father would still be alive and Cassian would have the chance at happiness.

Still, Krennić’s poison began to spread. He had run away before Krennić appeared in Bedford. And despite the fight, it had been his bullet that had led to Jyn’s death.

He sank into the chair across from Krennić, his eyes numbly boring into the wooden table.

“And it makes you angry that I see through you so easily. We are similar, you and I,” the Croatian continued.

“I think I’m gonna be sick, if you continue talking.”

“Ah.” Krennić seemed almost disappointed. “You have lost your bite and you can deny it as much as you want. But we are almost identical. Archaeology is our religion, but we have fallen from the pure faith. Our methods are almost identical, I’m just way more clever than you are. A bit more willing to take greater risks, to resort to ways others would consider immoral. I’m a dark reflection of yourself. I would take only a tiny nudge to push out of the light and into the dark.”

“Now you’re getting really nasty,” Cassian shot back, but it lacked the power and the conviction to really hit home.

“We are on the verge of greatness and you could be a part of it. Admit it, the Ark has always been your goal. That’s why you swarmed around Erso like a beggar in the streets searching for a rich man to throw him some coins. It was never about him or even dear Jyn. You are an orphan who wanted to achieve what all these genteel archaeologists with the noble backgrounds and years of studies would not. To leave behind your impoverished background. You’re just like me.”

Krennić surely thought his words were convincing, like some kind of shrink finally revealing secrets about your soul that were meant to smack you off your feet and open your eyes. But the more he talked, the more Cassian realized it was far from the truth.

He had dreamt of becoming someone respected in the academical world, despite being an orphan. But he hadn’t wanted it for himself. He had wanted it for Jyn. To be worthy of her, worthy to marry this fierce, intelligent and beautiful woman. Worthy to be Galen’s son-in-law. Worthy to spent his life at her side. What was the Ark next to a life with Jyn? Just some old piece of metal. Cold, dusty and impersonal. So when he spoke again, his voice was hard and determined.

“I am nothing like you.”

But Krennić seemed to think his speech had got him thinking and droned on. “Look at this,” he continued while swinging his pocket watch in front of Cassian’s face. “It’s practically worthless. Five dollars from a vendor just around the corner. But if I take it into the desert and bury it in the sand… People will kill for it in a few thousand years. People like you and me, Doctor Andor.”

Krennić took gulp from his glass, clicking his tongue. “Of course, the Ark is not about money. You have read the stories. You know the power it commands. It is unmeasurable.”

“Maybe,” Cassian scoffed. “But you won’t get any of it. It will go straight to Patine, won’t it?”

“Ah, no. After all, such a dangerous relict can’t be given to such brute heathens, can it? No, no, an expert will have to examine it. Extensively, of course. You could have studied it with with me. But… no. You see, the problem is, if you remember, you and I are similar. And I would never trust myself.” Krennić laughed about his own joke. “A pity really. How shall I find an opponent in the future who is so close to my level?”

“Have you tried the local sewer?”

“No. But now that you mention it, it would be a decent place for your body. Maybe your bones will be the discovery of a colleague of ours in the future. Sadly, it will be the only further relevance you’ll have for archeology.”

Cassian looked around. “Not a very private place for a murder. Plenty of witnesses.”

Krennić had already gotten up and merely adjusted his tie. “Ah, don’t worry. These Arabs don’t care if two infidels kill each other. One less, they’ll think.” He gave him a last condescending smile. “Goodbye, Doctor Andor. Now and then, you have been a small challenge for me. But all things have to end. If you see Galen, tell him I’ll complete his search.”

Cassian saw red at these words. He knew that the three Germans were still behind him without any doubt, but maybe, just maybe, he would be fast enough to blow Krennić’s brains out. And then he would be back with Jyn. This time for forever.

“Uncle Cassian,” a chorus of voices suddenly screamed and within the blink of an eye, Cassian was surrounded by children. Not any children, Sallah’s children to be precisely. They hugged him, talk insistently to him and slowly dragged him towards one of the doors.

Krennić stared at them and Cassian knew what was going on in the Croatian’s mind. It wasn’t beneath him to shoot children. But while the Arabs might not care about foreign people killing each other, it was doubtful they would simply watch when a few local children got shot.

“Human shields. And you claim to be better than me. You truly are nefarious.”

“I prefer ‘morally ambiguous’,” Cassian replied while he was dragged through the archway.

“Next time, it will need more than children to save you!” Krennić shouted after him, but Cassian didn’t pay any attention to him anymore. Sallah was waiting next to his truck, his face marred from worry and grief. No doubt, sending his children had been a move beyond bold and Cassian felt he wasn’t worth anybody risking his life for him, least of all Saw’s innocent children.

They only spoke once they were in the truck and driving away, Cassian and Salah in the front and the children on the truck bed.

“Your children have a talent for appearing at the right moment. Many a general would be envious of it.” His voice was toneless.

“We had to act quickly and there was no other way,” Sallah replied, voice equally grave.

“Jyn...” Cassian started, but a sob broke through and he toppled over, hiding his face in his hands so that no one, neither the children or the people in the busy street, would see the tears running down his cheeks now.

“I know,” Sallah said and he too seemed to be struggling with tears.

They drove on in silence, neither trying to comfort each other, as they knew there was no way to be comforted right now. Words were empty.

* * *

Krennić heard the sounds of a truck and he knew Andor had made his escape.

Taking another sip of his drink, dissatisfaction worked its way up his throat. He had missed his opportunity. I would have been the perfect moment to draw a liner unter the whole Erso affair. The girl was dead and Galen’s protégé would have been too.

Sure, Andor had allies in this city, but without the Mexican, they would have had no clue what they should do, where to search and thousands of other seemingly easy tasks you’d need an expert for.

However, he had always been one to search for the chance amidst the frustration.

What would be worse for Andor than be dead? Of course being alive while none of his adopted family was. With Jyn gone, Andor would fade into oblivion soon. The man had been tortured by today’s events and Krennić knew this wasn’t something you’d be able to shake off in a short amount of time. No, this kind of wound would never fully heal.

Maybe, it was fate. Krennić would be at the ready with the salt shaker. He almost smiled when he pictured Andor now, no doubt sobbing over Jyn’s tragic death.

No, he would not kill his body, he would kill Andor’s soul. First, take away his girl and then take away the last link to her and Galen - the Ark. It would finally crush him to see Krennić discovering the Ark and exploring its secrets. A final victory over a persistent, but ultimately unworthy foe.

After all, one had to savour the simple joys of life.

To the enormous incomprehension of his German companions, Krennić threw back his head and laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, trivia and explanations for this chapter can be found [here](https://thenewleeland.tumblr.com/post/170840153016/rotla-chapter-ten-authors-notes)!
> 
> In the next chapter, Cassian and Sallah have a small consolation when they visit a wise man while Krennić and Tarkin discuss the result of the former's little trip to Cairo.
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


	11. Cairo, Part V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still reeling from the events of the day before, Cassian and Saw infiltrate the excavation site to find the real resting place of the Ark. Luckily for them, they're not the only intruders...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Returning after a long hiatus! Thanks to all of you who are still up for it!

* * *

After they had dropped off the kids at Sallah’s home, Cassian and the Egyptian drove to the outskirts of Cairo where Sallah’s friend, an old and wise Imam, lived.

Adding to his grief, Cassian felt dizzy. The cheap booze at the bar enhanced the crushing pain he felt in his brain. To make matters worse, it had mixed with his brief breakfast and upset his stomach. He felt like lying down and dying, but he had to carry on.

He wasn’t sure if Sallah wanted to divert his thoughts from Jyn or if he was merely sadistic when he said: “Krennić has the medallion.”

“That’s impossible,” he retorted, reaching inside his pocket where he had put it after finding it next to the burning wreck of the truck. In his state of mind, even an unskilled pickpocket could have taken it, but to his relief, it was still there. He showed it to Sallah, who only nodded.

“Yes, this one. A copy, of course, but made out of gold, with a crystal embedded in the centre. The same markings.”

Cassian felt like he had been suckerpunched. Again. “It can’t be. As far as I know, there are no drawings or photographs of the medallion. I don’t understand it.”

“There’s more. This morning, Krennić went into the map room. The one with the miniature model of the city. When he came out of it, he gave new instructions. A new spot to dig, far out of the camp.”

“The Well of Souls,” Cassian muttered.

“Most likely, considering he must have made some calculations inside the chamber.” Sallah agreed.

They had arrived at the house of the Imam, situated on top of a small knoll. It was made out of bricks and stones, had a rather round shape and reminded Cassian of the observatory at his college. A telescope that projected from a window beneath the room confirmed his comparison.

Before he could leave the truck, Cassian grabbed Sallah’s arm.

“You’re absolutely sure it looked like this?” he asked, pushing the medaillon towards him.

“I’ve seen it.”

“Have a closer look at it, please. Every little detail could be essential.”

Sallah took the piece and turned it around in his hands. “I believe there is one: Krennić’s medaillon only had markings on one side, not on both.”

“You’re sure?” A tiny spark of hope flickered inside of Cassian.

“Quite sure. Come on, we’ll know more once we’ve figured out the meaning of these markings.”

* * *

A boy of twelve opened the door for them and ushered them into a rather large room in the centre of the house. Tables, chairs, shelves and even the floor were covered with books, documents, manuscripts, maps, pillows and even a handful papyrus scrolls. On any other day, Cassian would have been intrigued, would have been drawn towards the sheer amount of wisdom and knowledge that filled the room.

Today was no such day.

The Imam was waiting for them. He was a small man, about as tall as Jyn -- _Jyn_ , his heart stuttered - but with a face tanned by the heat and sand of Egypt, hands like claws and white hair. His skin was almost leathery, his clothes threadbare. But his eyes were alive with curiosity as he greeted Sallah and Cassian in his humble home.

Cassian gave him the medallion and the man immediately went to a small table in the corner, lighting an oil lamb and studying the piece carefully. In the meantime, Cassian and Sallah sat down on two comfy pillows.

Then, the waiting began.

Cassian was a patient person, you had to be considering most digs an archaeologist took meant hours, days and weeks of fruitless search. Which was maybe why Jyn hadn’t been that much interested in following her parents’ footsteps. She would have been just as clever as himself, hell, way more clever. But her motivation had been different. She wanted to travel and see the world without being focused on the past alone. To some extent, Cassian saw dates and events and the past. Jyn had seen the here and now.

They had been a perfect team. Not the same person, not at all. But people with genuine interest in what the respective other found fascinating and supported them, no matter what.

The boy, Abu, brought a bowl filled with fruits, some cheese and flatbread. Sallah took a piece of cheese, chewing, as absent-minded as Cassian. He wasn’t the only one who had lost someone dear to him, the Mexican remembered. Sallah had known Jyn too. Not as well as him and the big man had different feelings for her, but it was a loss nevertheless.

Cassian reached for the bowl and took a date, more to have something in his fingers to play with. He was getting restless.

“Come, come, look here.” The clear and very excited voice of the Imam suddenly ripped through the silence. The old man didn’t seem like an old and revered figure anymore. No, he was as giddy as a young schoolboy.

Sallah and Cassian sat down next to him. “Yes?”

Rising his left finger - similar to a teacher gently cautioning his students - he began. “This is a warning, not to disturb the Ark of the Covenant.”

“Anything more?” Cassian asked, slightly disappointed. He had had enough warnings already. They hadn’t helped.

“Yes, of course. The other markings tell us the height of the staff. Here.” He pointed towards a piece of paper he had apparently translated the markings on. “This was the old way. Which means: Six kadam high.”

“1.83 metres or seventy-two inches,” Sallah helpfully added.

“Wait!” The Imam suddenly intervened, raising the flat hand towards Sallah as a gesture to stop him. Then, he turned the medallion around, pointing at the markings on the other side. “And take back one kadam to honor the Hebrew God whose Ark it is.”

Cassian felt a bit more alive and grabbed Sallah’s arm. “You said Krennić’s piece only had markings on one side. You’re absolutely sure?”

The Egyptian nodded slowly, coming to the same realization as Cassian.

“Krennić’s staff is too long.” And then, together:

“They’re digging in the wrong place!”

Saw’s big paws grabbed his shoulders, slightly shaking Cassian. “Now we have an edge on them!” He turned around, walking towards the kitchen. Cassian faintly heard him singing. “I am the monarch of the sea. I am the ruler of the Queen’s Navy.”

Cassian looked at the date he still kept in his hand, lost in thoughts. The victory over Krennić felt empty -- a true pyrrhic victory.

No. Cassian had already lost. He would not need another such “win” to crumble down.

Behind him, the Imam spoke up again, now once again the severe scholar. “I don’t know who Krennić is, but I can warn you. There is a warning about the Ark you’d better take seriously. It says here: ‘Those who open the Ark and try to unleash its power will die, once it is released.’ I would heed these warnings, if I were you.”

Cassian felt a bit queasy. It wasn’t the first curse he would ignore, but the old man didn’t seem superstitious. Not at all.

Absentmindedly he reached a date towards his mouth when Sallah's arm appeared out of nowhere and nearly crushed his hand.

Cassian’s eyes shot towards the tall Egyptian, but before he could enter his defense mode, he saw the monkey they had met in Sallah’s house lying dead beneath a table, surrounded by date stones.

Sallah merely shrugged while gently prying the fruit from Cassian’s clenched fingers.

“Bad dates.”

* * *

Upon his return to their camp, Krennić had been received by one of Tarkin’s grim underlings. The man, some sort of lieutenant or something (Krennić cared little for military ranks), led him to Tarkin’s command tent. The Croatian’s amusement had yet to abate and the overly soldierly steps of the man, who marched as if he were on a parade, ensured that it would not cease to exist for a few minutes more.

Inside the tent, Tarkin sat at a wooden table, eating dinner. The sun had yet to set, but the workers were already busy tidying their tools away, turning in their findings and signing the papers that would be used to clarify how many hours each of them had toiled and how much they would be paid by the end of the week. Afterwards, they were herded into trucks and brought back into the city or to the small work camp outside of the German encampment. Krennić believed that Tarkin had numerous flaws, but his security measures were as good as the situation allowed.

Still, the man was a pest to be around. Even when cutting his food - a Wiener Schnitzel with some sort of potato-based garnish - the man acted like a soldier. Small, precise cuts, quick and calculated moves with knife and fork. Tarkin did not enjoy eating, he chewed on every piece of his meal with the same bored expression. It almost felt like the Oberst was annoyed by the fact he had to assimilate food.

Nobody offered Krennić a seat, so he made his way to a small collapsible chair a few feet away from the table, crossing his legs and fixing his gaze on the German officer with a smile that he knew would get Tarkin so annoyed that he would break the silence very fast.

He was successful.

With a distasteful expression - or maybe that was just the standard facial physiognomy - Tarkin wiped his mouth with a table napkin. “I hear your little foray into the city yielded no tangible results?” He didn’t even wait for an answer. “If you had at least got the girl or her medaillon. Based upon the progress, or should I say: the lack of thereof, Toth’s hand is not enough. Or your restoring abilities aren’t as good as you think.”

“We have reason to assume that the girl is dead and her medaillon lost. A pity.” He meant the medaillon, of course. Jyn was of little to no use for him. Galen had used the medaillon as some sort of sentimental gimcrackery for his wife and daughter and completely ignored what it really was. It was almost heretical.

“But it also means that there is no way Andor and his associates can recover it. In turn, we are the only ones who know how to find the Ark. Which limits his opportunities to either steal it from us or sabotage our efforts to find it. Considering he would have to enter our encampment and get past your soldiers to do both, the ‘foray’ was indeed a success in my eyes. Plus, the man is broken over the death of his beloved. He will be of little use.”

Tarkin was not convinced. “What I hear from you are empty promises. You went into the city to reclaim the medaillon and neutralize the threat the Americans pose. Not only did you fail in getting the medaillon, you also allowed Andor to escape. As long as he is alive, he is a threat. Or at least a nuisance.”

Krennić grinned. “But, Oberst. A lone Mexican tramp against 200 soldiers of the best _V_ _olk_ in the world. Why are you worried? Also, if you are so desperate to get rid of Andor, why didn’t you send some of your own men instead of relying on some local drunkards and human rabble? Have you fallen so low that you have to employ auxiliaries?”

Tarkin bared his teeth. “Even a mercenary such as you should realize that we can’t simply march into Kairo with a company of soldiers and start a firefight. This is still a British territory after all. The rabble should have been sufficient for the task. But it matters not,” the officer continued after a small pause. “I have doubled the guards. Any attempt to sneak into our camp will be uncovered soon enough. As long as your calculations are correct, I will soon be able to send some positive news to Berlin.” For the first time, something like life could be seen in Tarkin’s eyes.

Krennić rose with a sigh. “Well, I will retire for the night. After all, tomorrow will be an important day in our quest for the Ark. And, Oberst,” he added as he lifted the flap of the tent. “Be so kind and make sure your men are up for the task. I don’t think Berlin would take it kindly if your news are less… positive than expected.”

He could feel Tarkin’s eyes drilling into his back even after he arrived at his own tent.

* * *

After what had been the worst night of his life, a not very much fresher-looking Sallah woke him from his nightmare-plagued sleep.

Neither said much during the small breakfast, and even the normally joyful Fayah seemed downtrodden.

After climbing into Sallah’s truck, they drove towards the outskirts of Cairo, picking up the workers under employment of the Egyptian along the way. Sallah introduced their leader as Omar, a weary-looking man in his forties. They were all clad in the same white burnus that covered most of their body and protected them against the blazing sun and the sand.

Cassian had donned one too, covering his face even more than the rest of them to avoid being recognized instantly. He would not pass a closer inspection, but Sallah had assured him it wouldn’t be necessary. The Germans weren’t that meticulous.

Beneath spates and pickfords, a slender piece of wood was hidden. Cassian had spent much of the night carving and sharpening it so that it had the appropriate height - 1.52 metres and not 1.83 as Krennić thought.

When they had picked up the last of Sallah’s workers, Omar and Cassian switched places with the Mexican moving to the workers in the open back of the truck. The guards knew Sallah and slowly begun to recognize Omar, his friend had explained. But no one would care about the men in the back and the guard wouldn’t look at them twice.

After fifteen more minutes, they reached the outer German posts. It wasn’t much, just a tent and a wooden beam that blocked the sandy road. Three tired German soldiers in tan desert uniforms, armed with machine guns stopped the truck, gazed calmly into the driver’s cabin before their Feldwebel waved them through. Sallah was proven right. None of them bothered to look at the workers at all.

 _So much for Krennić’s security_ , Cassian thought with a light smirk that immediately died.

As they reached the top of the next sand dune, the digging side came into view.

Cassian had expected a lot given the stereotypes about Germans, but he was still impressed and even a bit shocked. As far as he could see, the desert was filled with tents, sweating men and equipment. Strewn across the plain were dozens of trucks, several cars and more importantly, diggers and bulldozers. Moving amongst them like ants were hundreds of Arab workers, most of them dressed in the same white clothes as Sallah’s men.

But for every five workers, there was one German soldier watching their backs, gun slung around their shoulders, screaming at them to work faster. Countless holes were dug in the landscape and they had managed to uncover several structures already. Beyond the digging area in the distance, Cassian thought he could spot something resembling a primitive airfield including a runway.

It was the biggest excavation side he had ever seen and he told Sallah as much once they disembarked.

“Indeed. Here,” he pointed towards a sandy hill near the middle of the side, “there’s the map room.”

“The one with the model of the city?”

Sallah nodded.

“When will the sun reach it?”

“Eight o’clock. About half an hour.”

“Then we better hurry. Where are they digging for the Well of Souls?”

Salah pointed yet again towards a cluster of workers and overseers almost a mile away from them to the north.

Cassian nodded. “We have enough rope?”

“Of course.”

“Then let’s go.”

* * *

"We are not heading towards the city.” Even the most clueless person would have been able to detect the anger in Jyn’s voice as she stared daggers at Chirrut. The blind man let the way, moving gracefully through the dunes, supporting himself with his wooden staff.

“We aren’t indeed, little sister. I thought you wanted to be reunited with the Doctor?” Chirrut’s mirth only increased Jyn’s fury.

“Yes. And we are moving away from him.”

Baze hummed wearily in the back and Jyn could feel Bodhi was about to say something in a brave attempt to defuse the situation.

“We are moving towards him. Or rather where he will be. If you would head back to the city, you would arrive at a place he has been. I’m not saying he won’t be there again, but for the here and now, we must go this way."

Jyn was about to make a retort, but Baze interfered and he made it clear the discussion would be over once he finished speaking.

“We all are here to protect the Ark. Protecting it means finding it. Finding it means we have to infiltrate the excavation side. Without doubt, your friend plans the same.”

Jyn marvelled at the grumpy man. Baze seemed gruff and even dangerous, but despite the clear rebuke in his words, they had been said in a gentle way, like a teacher calming an over eager pupil. They made sense too.

It was just… Jyn was tired of waiting. She hadn’t slept at all during the night, despite Chirrut offering her and Bodhi his finest carpet and some woolen clothes to sleep on. The Pakistani had been out like a light after lying down, but Jyn couldn’t help but think about Cassian. Was he still alive? Had he been captured? And if not, was he scouring the streets looking for her?

Jyn Erso wasn’t a needy being, but the few people that were close to her heart counted more than anything else in this cruel world. And she would not have another one taken away from here.

Smiling at Bodhi to signal everything was alright - a lie, but a noble one - she closed the line, moving next to Chirrut.

“How will we get past the guards?”

Chirrut’s smile had never left his face. “Oh, in my experience, doors that don’t exist are easily opened.”

* * *

The map room had been buried under tons of sand and even with their huge excavation efforts, the Germans had only been able to uncover the top of it. Therefore, the only way to enter and leave was through the hole in the ceiling that no doubt had let the sun in.

Making their way through the excavation site was almost too easy. No matter how organized things looked from the outside, no one could control the chaos of hundreds of people speaking different languages running around. No guard had stopped them or asked them where they were headed.

Sallah’s workers had went to their own excavation places. After talking with Sallah, they had decided two of them would be enough. Cassian would climb into the chamber and determine the correct resting place of the Ark while Saw would wait for him, keeping his way of escape open. More people lingering about would catch unwanted attention.

Without stopping for a moment, Sallah moored the rope on a wooden stake next to the hole, holding on while Cassian tested it by pulling on it. Then, he gave the Egyptian a grim nod and proceeded to climb to the hole, staff secured under his armpit.

It wasn’t a long climb. Perhaps seven or eight feet below, the hole, the ground began. Once he had reached it, Cassian took a moment to look around.

Any other day, he would have been delighted. The walls were made out of huge stone blocks, each of them ornamented with hieroglyphes. But even more impressive was the lifelike model of the city on the ground.

Cassian couldn’t help but marvel at the artistry and craftsmanship of the Egyptians who had built this room. The building on the ground were made out of the same stone as the originals, but the miniatures were all still in a perfect condition. It looked incredibly precise and beautiful. Building it must have taken months of patience and precision.

Slits in the ground, each of them with a special marking, surrounded the model. Doubtlessly, inserting the staff at each of them would reveal different things. He couldn’t be certain what exactly, Cassian would have needed weeks to study the hieroglyphs first.

Cleaning away the sand that had covered the slits at the head of the city, Cassian pulled out the medaillon. His best and only guess was that the hieroglyphs on Jyn’s prized possession could be found there and would lead him to the slit he was searching for.

Luck smiled upon him. He found a hieroglyph like the one on the medaillon quickly and his staff fit perfectly. Further proof for his theory was that the slit was right in the centre of this side of the miniature city. It made sense that the most prized possession of Tanis would have a prominent place when it came to determine its resting place.

With slightly trembling hands, Cassian mounted the medaillon at the top of the staff.

What happened next could only be described as magical and Cassian was not one to throw such words around.

A beam of light shot straight through the medaillon. Like a car headlight, it moved over the Tanis miniature on the ground.

It was nothing compared to the blinding beam of energy it produced once it found the Ark’s resting place - orange and so bright Cassian feared he would need hours to rest his eyes afterwards. But he couldn't fight a smile at its magnificence.

Retrieving a tape measure from the pocket of his burnus, Cassian drew a quick but nevertheless detailed model of the city and the resting place of the Ark in a small book. It was risky, but he couldn’t keep everything in his mind. There was no room for any errors, so he had to take the chance.

Frenetically checking his notes a final time, he removed the staff from the slit before breaking it in half over his knee. One piece he threw in a dark corner behind some stones, the other one he took with him. Krennić was no fool. Should he find both pieces, he would easily deduce what had happened here.

“Sallah,” he called as loud as he dared and after a moment, the bearded face of his friend appeared in the hole above. A short nod by Cassian confirmed that their mission had been successful and the Mexican proceeded to climb back out of the hole.

Arriving outside, the heat was even more oppressive than before. Down there, sheltered from the dust and the sun, it had been almost chilly. Cassian was about to share the news with Sallah, when a firm and annoyed voice made them cringe.

“Halt, ihr da. Was treibt ihr da oben?” Turning around, they saw a group of four German soldiers walking up the hill, guns at the ready. They were led by a sour-faced man with a scar on his left cheek.

“Das ist wohl zwecklos, Feldwebel. Die verstehen kein Deutsch,” another soldier chimed in

“Da haben Sie wohl recht, Kesselbrandt.” With an imperious gesture, the leader pointed at Cassian and Sallah, then towards the camp. Doing their best to appear like timid workers, Sallah and Cassian nodded, slowly climbing down.

“Na los, bewegt euch!” The soldier was impatient, nearly lashing out at Sallah when he moved past him.

“Das ist doch der Kartenraum, oder?”

“Kann schon sein,” his colleague chimed in.

“Was hatten die da wohl zu suchen? Ob sie zu Krennić gehören?”

“Das werden wir bald herausfinden. Na los, kommt mit.” Shoving Cassian with his machine gun, the soldiers herded them towards the tents.

Sallah and Cassian didn’t dare to share a quick glance. Neither of them spoke much German, but he heard Krennić’s name all too well. If they were brought to him, the Croatian would figure things out within seconds. This time, there would be no rescue.

And worse, he wouldn’t even be able to avenge Jyn.

They had passed the first row of tents and Cassian tried to find something, anything that could help them overwhelm four gun-wielding soldiers.

They turned around a corner when all out a sudden, a wooden staff appeared, knocking out the soldier that had moved ahead of them. His comrades were briefly startled and unable to react when a white blanket was thrown over them.

Yelling in their language, they tried to free themselves. Out from another tent, three people rushed out. Cassian barely spared them a glare before whipping out his broken piece of staff and bashing the nearest soldier across the head. A big burly man Cassian had never seen before took out the second one.

The third one was smacked by a tiny woman wielding a - frying pan? Once she had clobbered her victim, she turned around and Cassian stared into two green eyes he had thought he would never see again.

A smile spread on both their faces and with a “Cassian!” she barrelled into his arms. Ignoring the burly man, an astonished Sallah, Bodhi and the man with the staff, Cassian just held her tight for a few seconds.

There were plenty of questions he wanted to ask her - how she had escaped, if she was alright, who the men that had helped Bodhi and her were. But for the moment, they were of no consequence. The same could be said about the fact that they were currently on a enemy-controlled excavation side and their cover was blown. She was in his arms, he was in hers and she was holding him tightly.

He squeezed a bit more, careful not to hurt her, but to feel that it was indeed Jyn. Alive. It was silly, but Cassian had had to many losses in the past to be easily calmed and he feared his eyes would betray him. Heat, sun and sand was the recipe for hallucinations after all.

But when finally every last doubt inside his mind was gone, he couldn’t help but gently taking her face and pulling her in for a kiss.

“What did I tell you, little sister? We had to go where he would be, not where he had been.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, trivia and explanations for this chapter can be found [here!](https://thenewleeland.tumblr.com/post/176277404866/rotla-chapter-eleven-authors-notes)  
> Thanks for reading! :)


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